Adventure in the Kingdom of Sand
by GeckoMoriaShadowLord
Summary: ZoSan. Parallel Universe. The Royal Swordsman lives a comfortable life in the palace of King Nefertari until a slaver ship docks at the lively ports of Arabasta to unload a captured and bloodied captive which will send his life into chaos. War, love.
1. Adventure in the Kingdom of Sand

**Title: Adventure in the Kingdom of Sand **

**Pairing: Zoro x Sanji, Usopp x Nami, Smoker x Tashigi, Kohza x Vivi, Robin x Crocodile, Mr.2 x Mr. 3, Mr. 1 x Ms. Doublefinger, **

**Rating: M for sexual themes, violence, gore, swearing**

**Summary: **The era is the romantic 1800's. Arabasta, the great country of the desert, continues to flourish beautifully in the dry heat. The exotic culture of the desert people thrives as it has always done for millennia. But in this ancient age, thievery, murder, and corruption also do lively business in the same cobble-stoned streets of this great kingdom of sand. And then, one fateful day, a huge war- scarred battle ship enters the bustling harbor of Nanohana. Finally returned from its long voyage through the Grand Line and weary from carrying its explosive cargo: 1,067 swords. 912 soldiers. 567 canons. 119 feet of steel chains. 1 prisoner. Stolen from his home country, isolated from his loved ones, sold and bought at the infamous human auctions at the Sabaody Archipelago, and destined to be sold again in the great markets of Nanohana, this one lone man continues to rage against the atrocities fate has dealt begins the great adventure in the kingdom of eternal sand and sun.

_**Prologue **_

~0~

The sun had barely reached its peak in the cloudless, dazzling sky before the horizon darkened with the bulk of the _Sexy Foxy_. It had been a while since it had last seen the desert shores of the desert kingdom.

As the large ship drifted majestically into the harbor, the inhabitants of Nanohana turned in admiration to gaze at the ship's mammoth frame and eccentric design-it had been ostentatiously built in the shape of a fox-before hurrying down into the harbor for a chance to carry off the best picks of the exotic wares that the ship had, no doubt, brought back from the distant and strange islands of the Grand Line.

The _Sexy Foxy_ had been on voyage for over a year now-longer than usual-and so the Nanohanians were rather excited to see its barnacled decks and large, clean sails, flapping noisily in the brisk wind. The captain who piloted the _Sexy Foxy_, a man who, in large part, resembled the figurehead of his own ship, was a bloodthirsty mercantilist and businessman, and always seemed to have the best wares and best prices for his shoppers.

"Wares! Get your fresh wares here! Medical supplies from the Island of Drum! Spicy dinosaur meat from Little Garden! Dials from the Island of the sky! Long kiwis and apples from Long Ring Islaaaaaand!"

The voices of sellers and prospective buyers filled the air in a vibrant cacophony of excitement. Through it all, the large trumpet-like voice of the Sexy Foxy's auctioneer blared over the marketplace.

"Prime rate slaves from the Sabaody! Water Dumplings from the City of Water! Get them here! From the _Sexy Foxy_! You won't get this kind of quality from anybody else!" A short, portly man in a small black face mask with accentuating black fox ears hawked the wares as fast as they were unloaded from the cargo decks. Other black-masked men set up a market stand around the ship, and soon the port was crowded with eager men and women, searching for a deal or a rare commodity.

"How much for the flame dial-"

"30 belli! A deal-"

"Ten pounds of Tyrannosaurus Rex please!"

"Coming right up-"

"What a rip-off-"

"Thank-"

The chatter of voices increased to a respectable volume as money changed hands and packages were wrapped and exchanged.

A sudden hubbub caused a great craning of necks and a turning of heads as a group of people emerged from the hull. A collective 'ooooh' sound swept the crowd.

"From the Sabaody no doubt!", an old woman crowed excitedly, tugging eagerly on her older daughter's skirt, "Shana, get one! I need a good house maid-a healthy, young woman will do-"

"Slaves! We've got both men and women! Straight from the Sabaody Archipelago-the best of the best in the slave biz! Can be used for a human horse, a laborer….. or for your own personal uses!", the portly man bawled out, darting in between the human products, straightening a back there, tucking a braid of hair here.

There were only about fifteen of them-6 men and 9 women. They had been chained separately with steel chains looped around their legs and ending tightly clasped on their hands. A few were crying, but most stood with empty, blank looks of horror and surrender as they were poked and prodded; examined and assessed.

A fierce auction ensued-the portly man produced a gavel from somewhere underneath his shirt and banged it loudly against a piece of wood similarly produced.

"Item number one! A strong young man of thirty years! Goes by the name of Tanaka! A handsome one-Starting at 106,000 belli!"

"120,000 belli!", cried a skinny old crone, a predatory gleam in her old black eyes and a cold hunger in her shriveled old face.

"160,000 belli!", a tall, handsome man with slicked back oiled hair called out in a clear soprano, the want in his own green eyes matching the old crone's.

Tanaka's eyes rolled in fear as no other bid matched the tall man's. He looked around desperately but no pair of eyes met his.

"SOLD!", screamed the auctioneer and slammed his gavel down, "Item 1 sold for 160,000 Belli! Congratulations!" Tanaka stumbled off into the waiting arms of the tall man, the leash around his neck jingling mutely.

"Item Number Two! A beautiful young lady of extraordinary talent and refinement! 300,000 Belli for the starting bid! Do I have any takers?", the portly man cried, gesticulating widely.

"400,000!", screamed an obese man, huge belly shaking violently as he waved his fat, adorned purse around.

The young lady burst into tears, her shackles clanking noisily as she covered her weeping eyes. An uneasy murmur ran through the crowd, and there was a slight lull as the mass of people glanced guiltily around, suddenly over-aware of their position in a bid for human flesh.

"Fuck-", hissed the portly man, distaste stamped across his features as he gazed in chilly contempt at the swollen and puffy features of the girl, who looked very young indeed with the makeup running down her smooth cheeks. He ushered her off into the arms of the buyer quickly before he lost his audience.

"I apologize deeply for that little scandal! But believe me when I say you'll forgive me when I present this next item-", the auctioneer motioned urgently to some of the guards and made signals to the hold of the ship. They nodded immediately and headed back into the ship, more than a couple could be seen loosening swords in scabbards and uncocking pistols. There was an uneasy and apprehensive shift in the bidders.

"I warn you….this is not a sight for sensitive eyes!", the auctioneer began, catching enthusiastically to the excitement in the atmosphere, and dramatizing wildly so that the audience would forget the sobbing slave girl, "Captured from East Blue….a most dangerous man…a veritable pillar of manliness….a wonderful must-have!"

His next words were drowned in the sounds of commotion coming from inside the ship. Scuffles, shouts, and muffled blows could be heard. A man screamed-the shriek dampened by the wood. There was the dry crack of a pistol shot.

People turned to glance at each other nervously, and sashes were conveniently loosened to allow freer access to hidden weapons.

"Don't worry!", the portly man exclaimed, waving his pudgy arms in consolation, "This item is perfectly restrained by over twenty feet of steel chain and guarded by over one hundred soldiers! There is absolutely no chance of danger here!"

As the noise increased, the shoppers in the vicinity swallowed audibly and readied their legs to run. Dragging footsteps accompanied the clang of shackles and the grunts of exertion. Whoever was coming, was coming, but not easily.

"Get _ready_ for the sight of your lives!", the auctioneer cried, cleverly elevating his sacred person to a safer viewing spot, "And get your purses and wallets ready for a bidding fest who's likes you have never seen before! This is a one-chance-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Ladies and gentlemen, feast your eyes on this demon in the form of a man" The noise was so loud that he had to scream, "…..I give you…." Shapes emerged from the darkness of the hold and into the light of the day. "Item Number Sixteen!"

~0~

_**A/N: And now that you read…review. **_


	2. Caveat Emporium

_**Chapter Two**_

Caveat Emporium

In Osaka I saw you last, your face pressed up on the glass

Across the tracks you're looking at, as bullets pass behind your back

And I tried to catch your eye and then

Walk past you as the train came in

But I missed you there and lost my mind

The pulling car pushed me back

_-"Osaka Loop Line", Discovery_

~0~

The katanas were rather expensive at this shop.

Well, it wasn't like he_ didn't_ have any money. Quite the opposite really; but still, that didn't mean he could run around wasting it. Frugality was an important aspect of being a swordsman. Anyway, if Nami learned that he had spent this much on a single katana, she was apt to tear his balls off. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he looked at the price tag clipped on to the handle of the sword.

Immediately, the shop keeper was there, on his knees, fawning and kowtowing obscenely, "Does the Royal Swordsman wish for anything in my humble store?" He managed to snag one of his hands and plant a worshipful kiss on the back. "Does the price not please you, Master Roronoa?"

Zoro tried not to grimace outright at the unwanted caress, but managed to casually place his hands on his hips so they wouldn't tempt the man again, "Well, I'm thinking that the price for these katana aren't very fair for their quality. Some of the hilts are chipped-yet, you're selling them for 100,000 Belli!" He picked up a black one and showed the broken handle to the storekeeper."A swordsman can hurt himself rather badly if he grips a broken hilt hard enough." Zoro shrugged.

"Then I will change the price immediately Master Roronoa! I would be fool i_ndeed_ to not heed the advice of a man with such _expertise_ in swordsmanship! I think maybe 40,000 belli then? Or-_No_! I humbly ask that you name a price for these katana!", the storekeeper paused breathlessly.

"Err…How about 50,000 belli?", Zoro scratched his head thoughtfully.

"Marvelous! What _ingenuity_! What _fairness_! What utter _skill_ in everything pertaining to swords! What tremendous justice! What sheer-"

"Woah, woah-don't hurt yourself.", Zoro held his hands up in mock defense, chuckling embarrassedly, "Anyway, I'm looking for a sword myself-around the 100,000 belli range…"

"Of course Master! I am nothing but an uneducated brute to not have remembered that the Master originally came looking for a katana! 100,000 belli sword? Impossible! The Master Swordsman of Arabasta does not pay money here! But he will get the best in the shop!" With this, the shopkeeper scampered off to another part of the small store, muttering his praises.

Zoro sighed, it would be of no use to try to pay for the katana now. He always felt guilty whenever he received this kind of treatment; but he had long ago given up trying to fight it and now, he just went with the flow. Ever since he had been named Royal Swordsman of the Court by King Cobra of Arabasta, for having saved the life of the king and princess from the clutches of a malevolent pirate crew, he had been receiving this excess of admiration.

He _still_ didn't get how _that_ had happened. He really had no intention of saving them. He had just been walking along, minding his own business, when a tall, ugly man had told him to get off the road because that was 'his part of the town'. Of course he had ignored him and somehow, the man had deemed this sufficient justification for the subsequent attempt on his life.

But it turned out that the man and his crew was just talk; they went down in three seconds flat. He didn't even break a sweat. And then suddenly he was surrounded by jubilant hordes and admiring soldiers, crying 'hero!' and 'savior!' And the way things turned out, he had just saved a king and his royal daughter-the beloved monarchs of the country.

Not too shabby for a man who had been previously wandering around the country with only the three swords strapped to his waist and the clothes on his back to his name.

And then the processions, rewards, titles, and money had come rolling in. He suddenly found himself comfortably established in an entire wing of the royal palace with his own bedrooms, kitchens, bathrooms, and slaves. And with various titles of acclaim, 'Royal Swordsman of Arabasta' ,'Great Guard of Trial', and others, just as magnanimous and silly. He had become the country's hero overnight. And the hub-bub had still not died down. Everywhere he went, he was treated as a god.

Not too shabby at all.

"This one is the best in the shop! From the twenty-one named swords-"

Zoro held up one hand in interruption, "I'm not here to steal your family heirloom, old man. I just need a good practice sword. Here, I'll take this one."He softened the refusal with a apologetic smile, and reached behind him to pull a medium-grade sword off a stand on a wall.

Before the shopkeeper could protest, Zoro murmured a 'thank you' and made a quick retreat, closing the door quietly but firmly behind him.

The shopkeeper gave an appreciative mummer; it had been hard offering up his katana which had been in his family for generations-but the Master Swordsman had deserved it. A delighted smile spread across the old man's wizened features as he spotted the wad of cash left by Zoro on the empty shelf, once occupied by the red katana. Easily more than 100,000.

"What a great man…", he murmured contentedly. All was right in Arabasta if there were men like that in the Royal Palace.

~0~

_Hopefully he'll find the money_ Zoro thought, continuing his stroll through the marketplace. He didn't want to abuse his position, and even less did he want to hurt people.

He nodded kindly to the various salutations he received from the civilians, stopping to greet one or another and to inquire over their health. It was much less crowded then it would usually have been and Zoro paused to glance around questionably; wondering where everyone had gone.

"Oh! Master Roronoa! What are you doing here? The excitement's down at the pier!", a matronly old woman called out as she waddled past him in the direction of the beach, "Come along!"

Zoro grinned as he fell into step with the bustling character, "What's so great down there that everyone's gone and left me alone?", he accused jokingly.

"Oh ho! They're selling slaves down there! It's quite the event as there hasn't been a slaver ship since, oh, I'd say-ten years! Straight from the Sabaody Archipelago near the New World.", the woman answered, and then sighed, " Poor things. They've no doubt come from strange exotic tropical islands, and now they're fated to die in the desert.", she shook her head sadly, "But what am I to do? Anyway, I'm going down there now to cast an eye over the wares. The Sexy Foxy has been around the globe and back! It must have amazing things for sell! Ah! I can hear the commotion from here!"

Zoro cocked his head; sure enough he could hear the sounds of a busy auction already. He could even see the crowds of people and the auctioneer hopping from foot to foot excitedly as he bawled out something.

A scream snatched his attention.

Grabbing the hilts of his swords, and issuing a word of warning to the plump matron, Zoro strode forward warily; could be there was a rowdy personage who was disturbing the peace and needed a conversation with his swords to see reason. He pressed through the crowd to the front where it seemed the ruckus was. Several people made way for him and patted him affectionately on the back as he moved between them.

It seemed however, that everything was under control, the auctioneer was just presenting some rather noisy slaves. Zoro could hear the struggle they were having bringing them out. He sheathed his swords back and gave a sympathetic glance at the timid figures with the large steel collars and chains hanging off their hands and looping around their necks.

He wasn't a big fan of the slave auctions of the Sabaody. But neither could he go around upsetting the practice or even attempt to buy all the slaves in existence. He simply did not have enough money for that….or power. The auctions were a great favorite of the Tennryuubito. The World Nobles. No one fucked with them and got away with it. A Royal Swordsman of some small-time kingdom like Arabasta was just an ant to them.

"I give you…Item Number Sixteen!", the auctioneer screamed as though he was announcing the arrival of God himself descending from the very heavens. Zoro's eyes narrowed as he tried to discern the approaching figures. What unfortunate souls were it this time? A dozen beautiful maidens from Amazon Lily? Or a trio of desperate captured pirate captains? The jailers were making enough noise it seemed to be dragging either a whole horde of slaves or a giant from the famed country of Elbaf.

Zoro could feel his pulse quicken as the commotion came into full light.

It was a man.

One man.

And it was taking-Zoro counted quickly under his breath, and recounted again in disbelief-_forty five_ men to drag him step by unwilling step to the auction block. At least ten had a physical hold on him, and the other thirty five were straining on ropes attached to what seemed like every portion of the man's body. And still, they were advancing at a snail's pace. Zoro whistled softly; and others around him quickly nodded their agreement.

"Ascertain for yourself this man's strength! He would make an excellent human horse or a laborer!", the auctioneer called out over the excited buzz. "And not only that, but-!", He turned and muttered some instructions to the soldiers.

Long chains of kairouseki appeared and were quickly wrapped around the man's legs; miles and miles it seemed of the grey chains spent on the lower body; Zoro noticed, but only a single chain for each arm. Curious.

Little by little, the soldiers withdrew and the man finally became visible. But not before forcing the man to his knees and wrapping the chains to the tops of the poles on either sides of him so that his arms were forced up and over his blond head. He looked very much like he was right about to be executed.

Zoro looked on interestedly and a little pitying; the man was tall-around 5'10-and possessed of a bright yellow sheaf of hair which swept over his eye and swept around the back of his neck. He was only wearing a pair of loose black pants which were now tattered and ripped. To say he was in shape was an understatement, Zoro judged that the mystery man was very, very, _very _powerful. His body was certainly muscled enough to draw envious glances. And lustful ones. He was also _very_ handsome.

Zoro felt his throat tighten unconsciously.

"This man was captured at high cost! But what a _catch_! Not only as powerful as fifty men put together but also the owner or a pretty face! He would be a _great_ pool cleaner!"

"Is he going to be ok?", a prospective buyer demanded, looking skeptically at the blood drenching the blonde's body-both maroon stains and the crimson splashes of new stains tattooed his body horribly. "Look at all that blood on him…"

"He'll be fine.", a soldier answered dryly, "Because you see, it's not his."

"Why does he have a cigarette in his mouth?", someone else asked curiously.

"We weren't able to take it away from him.", muttered another soldier, he was sporting various bruises on his face and arms as well as a large goose-egg lump on his forehead, "And believe me-we tried."

Zoro chuckled as he saw a vein pulse in the man's forehead at the auctioneer's use of the word 'pretty'. It was a word that the man would not have chosen to ascribe to himself, obviously.

Taking a glance around, Zoro could see various people readying their wallets for the commencement of the bidding. Everyone seemed to want a piece of the action-from old perverted women to middle aged men who just saw the gorgeous body and the handsome features. He saw it too, being the orientation he was, but that didn't mean he wanted to jump the guy-well, _technically_, he _did_-but not right now- Zoro gave his head a mild shake to clear it. Poor guy…

"As I was saying," the auctioneer was saying, "not only can he be used as a strong worker; but also-", with a mischievous grin, the man walked casually over toward the bound figure of the blonde and ran a hand through the yellow hair, and jerked the blond head up so that the man's face was revealed, "But also is great for those _personal_ needs." He was undeniably handsome. Strong chin, wispy blond goatee, bright blue eyes, and a nice, peachy complexion.

"Agreed_._" Zoro heard a dreamy, masculine voice murmur behind him_._ The blonde slave didn't even deign to move; though Zoro saw his knuckles turn white.

Zoro shivered slightly in revulsion at the tone and turned to leave; he'd seen enough. He didn't want to see in whose hands this poor blond man ended up in. It was enough to see a handsome face and bright future chained up in front of his eyes. Zoro was on the verge of taking a step when the auctioneers' next words caused his ears to perk up.

"I daresay this man is the strongest man in these parts. I haven't seen a fighter like him in decades! He could be an excellent sparring partner or human punching bag! Imagine having the strongest man on this side of the Grand Line at your beck and call!"

Zoro found himself returning to the front in spite of himself. Not that he wanted the man; hell, sure he did, the guy was hot, and he had been known to take the same sex to bed more than a few times; but that wasn't the reason he was returning to the front.

There was no way in hell that this blondie could be the strongest warrior this side of the Grand Line. No way in hell. Simply because, _he_ was the strongest guy here. And what's more, everybody knew it. Why the hell had he been named Royal _Swordsman_ if he wasn't? Zoro cast another glance over the bound figure. Muscular, lean, lithe, the prisoner was a powerful man, no doubt. But the actual extent of his power remained unknown…no way to find that out unless…

_No_. Nami would kill him if he came back with a slave in one hand and a large bill in the other hand. He couldn't buy the man. Zoro nodded his head decisively and turned to leave.

"No one here can take this man!", the almost-forgotten auctioneer bellowed out as prices began to be called in and people edged in closer to take a look at the infamous prisoner.

"If he's so strong, how are we gonna control him?", demanded one man.

"Very easy.", was the smooth answer, "Before you leave with this man, we will fit an exploding collar on his neck. If he tries to escape or disobey you then you can trigger the explosion. It won't kill him of course…but it'll take the fight out of him!"

A mulling pause greeted this statement.

"20 million belli!"

"25 million belli!"

"33 million be-"

"41-"

"100 million.", Zoro's voice cut through the tumultuous bids of ten millions or twelve millions. A split second of silence was immediately succeeded by a wave of awed whisperers and gossiping murmurs.

Even the blond prisoner, who had heretofore not even deigned to glance at the contestants for his ownership, had instead, been disdainfully playing the cigarette across his lips and watching the ground in contempt, jerked his head up at the mention of the kingly sum to be paid for his hallowed self.

Zoro waited patiently for a contest; when none was forthcoming; he made his way, quietly but decisively, towards the auctioneer. He caught his name fluttered from mouth to ear and ear to mouth; the price mentioned was repeated and repeated incredulously.

Oh well, it seemed like Nami was going to have his balls for desert after all. _One hundred million_. What in the name of all the Gods had possessed him to offer such an amount? For nothing more than a slave? Sure, a sexy fighter, but what exactly was he planning to do with this blond man whose name he didn't even know?

All he had been thinking was that he couldn't let a chance like this pass him up. Someone who might be able to match his level in power and skill would be an invaluable training help. No one here in Arabasta was worth a sorry shit in battle. Pell, the so-called Strongest Warrior of Arabasta, has lasted three seconds against him. Blindfolded.

But if he was having any second thoughts, it was too late. He had reached the auctioneer's platform. Digging into his haramaki, beneath the long black and white robe he sported, Zoro dug out a rather large money sack and tossed it into the eager hands of the portly man.

"Keep the change."

"Yes..! Yes, thank you Master Roronoa! You will not regret this amazing purchase! Please, please accept my warmest gratitude and congratulations over your buy!"

"Thanks.", Zoro muttered, turning to look at just _what_ he had just spent all of his spending money on.

The blond prisoner had turned away from the scene again and was stoically looking at the ground; determinedly ignoring any other presence.

Meanwhile the auctioneer, whose hands never had left the bag, and who had succeeded determining the quantity of money through the thin cloth with his fingers; was happily and hurriedly barking directions at some of the soldiers who were standing to attention around the auction block.

They came running with even more chains and padlocks. They stopped expectedly behind the blond man, looking to Zoro for a nod of approval to continue their task of binding the blond slave as tight as fuck. He held up a hand and motioned that they wait.

Zoro saw the blond slave turn around slightly and spot what seemed like miles of dark, heavy steel ropes. Most of it covered in sticky, maroon stains. Something flickered in the pits of cobalt blue. Zoro was astounded to realize it was _annoyance_. Not fear, not even nervousness. Just a cool look of annoyance. As for him, he hadn't even come under the contemptuous gaze of the slave. This wasn't what it was supposed to be like.

Zoro cleared his throat, "Hey, you." Not sure how to address someone you just bought.

No answer. The blond man continued to roll the beaten up joint in his mouth.

"Hey! Your master asked you a question! Answer him, slave!", a nearby soldier, attempting to curry favor, yelled out from somewhere to Zoro's left. Zoro made an angry hushing gesture at the young recruit and turned back to the slave.

"Got a name?", Zoro asked, trying to sound as kind as possible.

"I do.", the man allowed, sounding amazingly arrogant for someone who had just been sold and bought.

The two word response was more than he had expected though and Zoro took heart. He didn't want to start off on the wrong foot with this man. He would have to be a voluntary fighter for it to work; but still a slave who wouldn't run off to wherever he came from.

"What's your name then?", Zoro asked politely.

The blond chuckled, sounding genuinely amused and as cool as if though he were discussing this over coffee. In his own restaurant. It was a surprising feat, considering he was chained and sentenced to imprisonment for life, basically. "_That _is my own business. I won't have a stranger I don't know say my name like he knows me… and when he's nothing but a shitty flesh-buyer."

Zoro could feel himself getting annoyed already; damn, no wonder they kept this guy locked up and chained. He would too, if he had known how annoying this guy could be. Was it too late to turn back time? Couldn't the stupid blond see that he was _trying_ to be nice to him?

"Oi, I'm your new master, so you better be nice to me.", Zoro snapped, annoyed. He didn't like playing the 'master' card, but this guy was ticking him off.

"Huh. The second I get a chance or you turn your back, I'll be gone… or you'll be dead.", the blond raised his head and Zoro found himself staring into cobalt eyes, a blue so dark they seemed black, and so filled with hatred, contempt and rage that Zoro felt the goosebumps break out on his back.

What a fighter.

Dear God, what a fighter.

It'd be amazing to pit his strength against this man; here was an _authentic_ challenge. Zoro swallowed with difficulty, his regret vanishing with the insane rage dancing in the blond man's eyes. The guy was probably crazy strong, and one of the handsomest guy's he'd ever laid eyes on.

If only he had met him in a different way.

"And if you even _try_ to get me to follow your every order; or try to _mount me like a horse_, I'll rip your entire _dick_ off-_balls and all_. You'll piss sitting down to the end of your days."

If only he hadn't met him at all.

Zoro sighed as he looked down at the blond, and rubbed his temple in exasperation. Just how exactly was this going to work? Glancing up he saw the waiting soldiers with the expectant chains in their hands. "Put those away.", Zoro ordered.

"But Master Roronoa, the man's dangerous-", one protested.

"Put them away.", Zoro repeated, "And what's more-take the other's off him too."

There was an apprehensive and worried murmur and a more than a few in the audience left the scene in a hurry.

The soldiers gulped but they moved forward with a ring of keys and unclasped most of the chains. By the end of five minutes, the blond man was left standing with only a pair of handcuffs and a chain between his feet. The man had not resisted the freeing or tried to mangle any of the soldiers; he had simply let them near and had silently accepted the liberation. His eyes never left Zoro's. Suspicion gleamed brightly in them.

A few other soldiers approached carrying one of the exploding collars. Zoro shook his head, "I don't need that."

"But-", the soldiers were looking decisively nervous now.

"Get me a normal collar then.", Zoro ordered, more for their benefit than his.

The collar was hurriedly brought and slipped onto the blond's neck and the leash end was quickly handed to Zoro. Zoro gripped the rope on his end tightly and pulled it experimentally.

As he thought. Complete resistance. The blond stood there, with his head held high and an amused and scornful look plastered on his face, a mischievous curve softened his lips.

Zoro glared at him and yanked hard on his own end. The amused holier-than-thou look was wiped off the blond's face as he gagged and choked and came stumbling towards Zoro. Zoro couldn't help but snicker as a look of surprise and a higher degree of wariness clouded the man's face.

"Surprised?" Zoro asked maliciously.

"Yep. I had you pegged as a weakling as well as an idiot. An ugly idiot at that.", was the smart-ass comment.

Zoro could feel the urge to punch the man in the face heating up. Instead he yanked again on the rope. But it seemed the man had wised up; he followed after Zoro with no more resistance but with a sullen, sly look that promised great retribution as soon as the owner got the chance. Man, he _would_ have to watch his back with this man. He pulled the blond after him and the crowd parted magically for him, giving the blond slave a ridiculously large berth.

"You know I'm just going to run away as soon as I have a chance!", the blond called out behind him. He had a nice baritone, deep and smoky. It was the kind of voice that could turn Zoro on just by listening to it. He tried not to think of the auctioneer yanking the man's head up.

"Let's see you.", Zoro answered instead, not bothering to turn around.

"So how the hell do you plan to get me to do anything, huh? Hell, you're struggling to get me to _walk_."

"You'll see." , Zoro called back, trying to sound mysterious. Inside he was thinking _don't you ever shut up?_

"Oh, so you think you can force me to work for you? Well, let me tell you something-", the blond began angrily, before he was cut off by a wavering female shriek.

Zoro turned around before facing forward again, "Looks like they're selling off another slave…", he commented to the blond man who had turned around also and was watching silently as one of the young slave women was dragged onto the auction block. She was a mermaid, and her green tail was rusty with dry blood. Zoro didn't think it was someone else's this time.

"Nothing we can do.", he murmured to the blond who seemed transfixed with the spectacle. "Come on…", he pulled lightly on the leash. There was no give.

"Come on-"

"Save her."

"What?", Zoro raised an eyebrow.

"Save her. Buy her! You have enough money! You paid _one hundred million _for _me_! You have enough to buy her! I know you do!", the blond man turned desperately on him, a wild look in his eyes.

"That's not the point.", Zoro answered, taken aback in spite of himself, "Sure I have a lot of money, but I can't save everyone. The more we buy, the more they capture. You have to suffocate the business-"

"_I don't care!_ Buy her! Please!", the blond man yelled, "Are you so inhuman that you can't see her suffering?" A look of anguish distorted his handsome features.

"Of course I can! But that's not the point, listen to me!", Zoro yelled back, "If I buy her-"

"If you buy her…I'll …I'll….I'll make you a deal!", the blond interrupted, yelling, "Buy her-and all the others- and I swear to God I….I won't run away from you."

Zoro's ears perked up, this was an entirely different story, "Really?"

"Yes, yes, yes! If you buy her-all of them- and let them free, I swear on my own name that I'll do anything you wish.", the blond man pleaded desperately, "Just let them free for God's sake…", he turned and watched the auction continue despairingly.

Zoro thought for a second before he dropped the leash from his right hand and headed back. The blond man followed quickly after.

"I'll buy all of them.", Zoro announced and tossed another moneybag at the auctioneer, causing for the second time that day, a sensation. "There's 200 million in there. More than enough, I presume?"

"SOLD!~"

Zoro rolled his eyes, and began to uncoil the loops of chain from around the mermaid's uncovered torso and shimmering tail. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the blonde unlooping the steel ropes from around the remaining prisoners. The mermaid, who had light green hair he noticed, maybe she was distantly related to him, was shivering uncontrollably.

"It's all right.", he murmured reassuringly, "I'm going to set you-all of you- free."

"Really? You're not lying?", her big green eyes stared at him hopefully.

"Yeah…Oi! Everyone I just bought!", Zoro announced, turning around and giving the other dumbfounded slaves what he hoped was a kind smile, "You're free! Do what you want, just don't get captured again!"

There was a muttered sigh of gratitude and Zoro found himself patted gratefully in worship as the former slaves quickly vacated the area. He sighed, a little annoyed in spite of himself…it seemed as if he had just earned another horde of followers.

Zoro turned towards where the blonde\ man stood silently; not sure if he would honor the promise he had made before.

The man shrugged and sighed a little wistfully when Zoro turned around, "I'm guessing you mean everyone but me, right?"

"That's right.", Zoro couldn't help twisting the knife in the wound a little deeper. The pang of guilt at being so malicious disappeared with the blond man's next words.

"Whatta asshole."

Zoro glared at him, "Oi, hey, as your new master and as seeing you swore to obey my every word, my first order of your life is for you to….hmmm, let's see…. _stop being such a prick_."

It was priceless to see the blond man's mouth open to retort, and then close again with a snap. Then open again…then snap shut. The red flush of impotent anger was also very gratifying. Plus, it made the man that much more adorable. Zoro wasn't going to lie, the guy looked good.

Zoro shook his head quickly to clear it; he had never his life been so preoccupied-and so fast- with one man…or woman. It was unnatural how fast he had responded to the need to annoy this man. To the need to own him. He would have to watch himself around this one. For more reasons than one.

"Come on", he said shortly and pushed through the admiring crowd, who were now praising his great humanitarianism. Zoro didn't bother checking to see if the blond man was following; an instinct deep inside him assured him that to the blond, a promise was much more binding than millions of miles of chain steel.

It kind of reminded Zoro of himself.

~0~

"Hey…you…with the green hair.", Zoro heard the voice behind him speak up after they were a couple minutes from the harbor and the crowd.

"The name's Roronoa Zoro.", Zoro answered, with a smirk, "But to you…you can just call me Master Roronoa."

"You're such an ass-", the blond man cut himself off quickly and sullenly finished, "_Fine._ _Master Roronoa_?" The sarcasm was thick enough to cut.

"Yes?", Zoro answered, even managing to sound magnanimous. He was surprised to note that it was kind of fun to mess around with the blond man. It came natural; almost second nature. Who _was _this guy?

"Well…._thanks_…for setting them free.", the words were grudging and a reluctant gratitude and respect shown half-heartedly; but the words were sincere.

"Well, you're the one who told me." Zoro replied, "But you know…you gave yourself up in exchange, right? That's not a very smart move if you were pretty set about escaping…Unless you plan on ditching anyway."

The blond man shrugged forlornly, "I guess I might as well tell you now…but there's no way I'm going to break my word…you won…I'm stuck here for life…", the words were both proud and deeply unhappy. And Zoro could hear a muted note of resentment burning hotly beneath. "Why'd you buy me anyway?"

"I think I should be the one asking the questions.", Zoro remarked, continuing to walk in the direction of the Royal Palace, towards home, "You want to tell me what your name is now?" Zoro was eager to place a name on the mysterious, handsome young man. Names were intimate things; full of power. To know the young slave's birth name and to call him by it would establish a much more intimate bond between them. Zoro felt like he had discovered a fast friend; maybe even a potential lover. The only difference was that in this situation there was that peculiar twist in which one owned the other.

He had always been a man to trust his instincts. And now, Zoro felt like his instincts were telling him to get to know this unknown blonde man who had come in chains from over the horizon and across the seas.

~0~

"Sanji."

"Sanji.", Zoro repeated, savoring the name; letting it flow right off his tongue. The two syllables were delicious; he would love to cry them out. "Sanji…"

"Yeah, yeah. That's my name all right." The blond man-_Sanji_- muttered, unimpressed, "No need to ask yours. I already know it. _Master Roronoa_." The sarcasm was back.

"You don't have a last name…Sanji?" Zoro asked, taking a liberty with speaking the name so familiarly.

"I would've told you if I did," was the stoic response.

" Why don't you have one Sanji?" he persisted.

"Don't need one.", Sanji replied smugly, "And you don't have to keep addressing me by my name you know."

"But I want to…" he whispered, letting a little smile play itself out on his lips.

This earned him a slightly disturbed look on Sanji's part. "Uhhhh….okay….Woah! What's this!"

They had finally reached the Royal Palace and Zoro had proceeded to give the signal so the guards could throw open the gates and admit them graciously. The huge sandstone walls glowed mellowly in the dusky afternoon.

"This is where I live," Zoro smirked, enjoying the wide-eyed gape of surprise on the blond man's face, "And your new home."

"Who the hell are you? The goddamn king?"

Zoro just chuckled and didn't deign to reply. Sanji kept on glancing warily around as they made their way through the magnificent corridors towards his quarters. As a couple of his servants greeted him and ushered him into his rooms; Zoro tossed himself onto a luxurious sofa and rang a bell which would summon his official butler. Sanji remained standing; looking unsure.

"Yes, Master Roronoa?" a young man came sauntering out of a nearby doorway, "Finally you came back! I just finished defending your rooms from a horde of assassins, who no doubt were after your sacred treasures…They were a bother…I was trembling, true…..trembling from excitement!"

He was a rather peculiar figure, with a bush of springy black hair capped off with an argyle bandana and a pair of wide eyes oversetting a rather long and Pinocchio-esque nose. He was dressed in the manner of the people of the desert with a long and almost transparent robe covering his ornamented skirt.

"Yeah, yeah, Usopp…Thanks, I knew I could count on you." Zoro rolled his eyes and waved him over, "Hey, I bought a slave….get him cleaned up and give him the uniform. Orientate him to the life and what not…the usual."

Zoro yawned, he was a little tired from all the hub-bub today; he got up from the sofa and popped his back; it wouldn't do to fall asleep on the sofa, he'd probably wake up with stiff shoulders or something.

The long nosed man turned and cast a surveying look over the new arrival; his face going a trifle paler under his tan at the sight of so much blood on one person. He made a small _eep_ sound in the back of his throat, "B-B-But Zoro…I'm tired….Why don't I call Luffy to come do it? I just finished fighting thousands of professional-"

"He's not going to kill you Usopp.", Zoro laughed, "Isn't that right….Sanji?" He tossed a lazy glance at his slave and shrugged out of the long thick robe he had been dressed in. Like Usopp, he was dressed in a skirt, except it went down to his feet and had a more military feel to it; as it was plain and smelled more of efficiency than of decoration. He was bare-chested, too, but had a large collar-crest made of sheet gold and inscribed with the Royal Family's crest and with the title and seal of his position.

The blond man nodded and gave a friendly smile to the butler, though it was rather strained.

Usopp swallowed but nodded, and with a quick 'follow me' he had bustled out of the room, through a nearby door. Zoro watched in amusement as Sanji followed the butler with a last suspicious look directed at him.

~0~

"Nice baths," the blond man commented, looking around him.

"Yeah!" Usopp yelped, as he hurried to turn on the showers that flowed from the giant stone lion's mouths. "You can just drop your clothes…err…your pants off in the basket over there…they don't work anymore….And I'll call a doctor to see to your wounds…"

"Don't bother. I don't have any.", Usopp saw the blond strip off his tattered black pants and step under the fountain; ascertaining his words by the instantaneous pink puddle that formed underneath his feet as the blood washed off him; leaving his clean, well-sculpted, white body unmarked.

Usopp gazed in admiration at the muscled torso and legs; he was always, on the sly, trying to improve his physique, since his secret dream was to become a great warrior of the sea and visit the land of the giant warriors….Elbaf. But Zoro, being the selfish butthead he was, always claimed that he didn't get enough training fighting him, so Usopp never got to practice much.

But, Usopp thought, as he walked off to bring the new slave his uniform, he guessed that Zoro would be eager to fight with this particular blonde man. _More_ than a little eager. Fight and maybe something else as well. Usopp worked for Zoro, but he was also his friend; and he knew his friend's peculiar tastes in sex.

Usopp gagged. He'd never get used to it….

Coming back, Usopp saw that the new slave had finished bathing and was waiting patiently, hunkering on his haunches and staring sightlessly out one of the floor-length windows. Usopp glanced out to see what the blonde man was staring at; and was surprised to see the ocean aflame with color where the sun was sinking within it.

"Beautiful isn't it?" the hoarse, jagged voice interrupted Usopp's thoughts, and he turned around, "It's hard to believe that…right now….I'd be starting the evening meals..or maybe fighting Carne….I'd never thought I'd miss that shit-cook…"

Usopp felt a deep well of sympathy rise up within him; the blond had seemed so confidant, so arrogant, so strong…standing there with blood that wasn't even his marking his body. He hadn't even thought that maybe, somewhere, this man had left behind a family, loved ones, an entire life.

"I'm sorry…" he said awkwardly, "Well… I know how you feel…but, at least Zoro bought you…it could have been worse!"

The blonde man wiped at his eyes savagely, "Anyone who forces someone against their will to leave behind a life is a fucker. I don't care if he's good or bad or whatever! I just want to go home…."

Usopp dropped down by his side and patted the blonde man comfortingly on the shoulders; he could sympathize…Zoro had bought him too, only a few years ago.

After a few minutes, the blonde man spoke up; his voice had regained its composure and except for the fact that his eyes were a little blood-shot; there was no evidence that he had been crying.

"Oi….My name's Sanji," there was a shy hesitance to it that was endearing to the long-nosed man.

"I'm the great man Usopp" Usopp answered, getting up and striking a pose, feeling his confidence return with a flourish, "I'm sure you've heard of me before…"

Sanji laughed, and stuck out his hand, "I believe I have….pleasure to meet you in the flesh."

Usopp grinned and slapped the offered hand, "Would you like a signed autograph?"

It was the beginning of a fast friendship.

~0~

"Here ya go," Usopp chirped a little too cheerfully as he handed Sanji a long, cream colored sash.

"Okay…where's the rest of it?" Sanji demanded, taking the sash and wrapping it around his hips so he could stop flashing the long-nosed man.

"That's it…" was the nervous reply.

"What do you mean that's it? I'm barely decent!"

"Oh! I forgot the other part!" Usopp exclaimed, running to a nearby dresser and rummaging through it.

"Thank God!" Sanji muttered, relieved.

"Here!" Usopp held up a small silver pin in triumph, and hurried over to clip the sash tightly together.

"What the fuck! Can't I get something that's more…_covering?"_ he yelled, shifting embarrassedly from foot to foot, over-consciousness of his nudity and hairy legs for a reason he wasn't sure of.

"Sorry, but that's the slave's typical uniform", Usopp snickered, very proud of his long and flowing skirt.

"But _why?_" Sanji demanded, determined that the other see the light.

"Well, as you've noticed, " Usopp explained sagaciously, "Arabasta's a desert country, its more economical for us to wear loose, light-fitting clothes so we don't succumb to heat-stroke."

"Why can't I get a skirt then?", Sanji pointed accusingly at Usopp's dress.

"I call it a kilt…a kilt…"

"Yeah, kilt, whatever, I want one."

"Sorry…only paid servants can have one!", Usopp gloated. "And anyway, I don't think Zoro would like it if I gave you something to cover up those amazingly _long_ legs."

Sanji laughed, and shook his head in a _you're joking, right? _way. He shifted the sash around as they walked back towards the room where they had left Zoro. He felt overly exposed, like both his ass cheeks were hanging out and his dick was bulging ridiculously through the filmy cloth. Not to mention his legs, were on show and he had nothing on from his stomach up.

Ah well, he'd have to get used to it wouldn't he?

Sanji sighed thoughtfully; he had no intention of breaking his word, but he still hadn't given up on the hope of getting out of here and returning to his home and family. He wasn't the type to say 'fuck it' and just sit down and give up. Sooner or later, that man who had bought him would allow him to leave; he, Sanji, would just have to work on him.

Usopp had been chattering inanely about some great battle he had been in stopped suddenly, and motioned at a closed door, indicating silently that Sanji was to go in alone.

"What?", Sanji mouthed.

"Mater Zoro wanted to see you after you took a bath.", Usopp explained, "Go on in."

"Where's this, though?", he whispered.

"It's..um…his bedroom."

Sanji nodded, the nervousness which permeated the long-nosed man was contagious, he could feel the sweat drops beginning to accumulate on his back.

He nodded again, more to reassure himself then Usopp, and pushed open the door and walked inside.

~0~

**A/N: And now that you read…click that button below and do the right thing…**


	3. The Will to Submit

Chapter 3

The Will to Submit

Show me a starry eyed kid, and I will break his jaw

I won't let him get his hopes up,

And I will save him from himself

Here's a picture with a note

No, no, don't turn out like me

It's only for your own good

And haven't you heard?

The word on the street is

I lost it, called it quits

_-"I Liked you a lot Better Before you Became a Fucking MySpace Whore", Fall Out Boy_

~0~

When Sanji's eyes had adapted to the darkness of the interior, he could make out the man who had just so recently bought him, lying on the couch, with an arm casually thrown back on the back of the sofa, and looking annoyed as a red-headed woman hectored him feverishly.

Sanji's eyes immediately slid lecherously down her well-sculpted body, barely clothed. The calculator in his head immediately spitting out the three measurements so dear to feminine hearts. Nami would have been surprised at how accurate they actually were. But then, it could be said that he was on intimate terms with the female body. First name basis really.

But right now she was busy screaming her head off at the lump on the couch, who was digging with his pinky in his ear and frowning. The expression on his face was of one of slightly annoyed disinterest. _I'm not paying attention to you, you know I'm not paying attention to you, I know _you_ know, so what's with the goddamn racket? _

"Do you even hear yourself Zoro? That was _one hundred thousand_ belli for one slave! How the hell could you spend that much on a single _damn_ slave, ehhh?", the redhead pumped her fist in front of the other man's nose, looking an inch away from just popping the idiot one.

Sanji silently cheered her on inside. It didn't seem as if the pair had heard Usopp's knock on the door; and were now, equally unaware of his presence. Sanji had a second of bitterness in which he realized how easy it would have been to run away from the buffoon that sat on yonder couch, if he hadn't been stupid enough to open his mouth and play the hero. It would have been so _easy._

"Nami, calm down, will you? I'm getting a goddamn headache listening to your pointless yapping-" Sanji nearly had a heart attack at the utterly base manner with which the green haired idiot treated the lady. To say _that_ to a woman was a Sanji-taboo.

"You _shut the fuck up Roronoa Zoro!"_, came the angry screech, "I'll remind you damn well that _I_ pay the goddamn bills in this house, and I cannot-_cannot_-have you throwing money away every time you go out! How are you going to feed your household-"

"We have enough money, bitch! I saw all those hoards of gold that you keep bottled up in your room-"

"That's _my_ money! All mine! Yours is in the treasury! And if I _ever _catch you in my room, I'll have your _balls-"_

"Why the _hell_ do you always, and I mean _always, _have to bring up my goddamn_ genitalia_ whenever we fucking argue? If you want me to lay you, then, by all means, don't beat around the bush-"

"You're _disgusting!_ As if I'd sleep with a lout like you! Save your dingle for the new slave you just bought, I hear he's _exactly _your type! God, Zoro, if you wanted a prostitute, then even the best go for less than five thousand!"

"Who said I wanted him for sex! You judge everyone's mind by your own dirty one! He's only going to be a _sparring _partner!"

Sanji definitely did not like the way the conversation was going. It sounded like he been bought for the mere purpose of giving physical-_woah, not going there. _

"Oh yeah, is that what you call it nowadays? I'm sure you'll match _swords_ with him soon enough. I wonder what the hell your _competitions _will be like!"

Sanji had had enough. He had no idea what the fuck these two crazies were talking about, didn't _want_ to know. He just knew he had strange, murky images of anal sex, money, and fighting naked that weren't particularly pleasant. He coughed loudly, and the two heads, nose-to-nose, swiveled towards him.

The redhead's , "Are you the one hundred thousand belli slave?" rang simultaneously with the greenhead's, "How much did you hear?"

Sanji, being ever the gentleman, decided to answer the lady first, and with _style_. He stuck out his foot, toe pointing up, and bowed over it, with a hand tucked behind his back and another planted over his heart. The pose would have been killer with his sharp, stylish suit. Dressed in a sash slash thong, the courtesy bow just managed to look foolish.

"Yes I am, Milady. At your service." Sanji decided to see how far he can ignore the greenhead without any trouble.

Nami smiled, and offered her hand, "At least this one has manners. I'll give you that Zoro. What a gentleman."

Sanji was right about to plant a lingering kiss on the lady's hand, but before he could, his hand was snatched away, and he was roughly propelled in the opposite direction. By the greenhead.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm sure you two can get all cozy later on. Stay there.", Zoro finished depositing him on the other side of the room, and headed back, shaking his green head with a disgusted air.

"Just _what_ is your problem, you big buffoon? I am _trying_ to talk to-what's his name?", Nami started out heatedly, suddenly stopping when she realized she didn't know his name.

"Sanji.", both Zoro and he said immediately and Sanji threw the greenhead an annoyed look. Zoro promptly ignored it.

"Yes, I'm trying to talk to _Sanji_." Nami glared daggers and swords, a whole fucking arsenal actually, at the greenhead. If looks could kill, Sanji thought that the greenhead would be out on the cooling boards already.

"Well, forget it. You can talk to him all you want tomorrow. But right now, I want you _out_. My head is splitting!" Zoro scowled fiercely at the orange-head and made flapping motions towards the doors.

"We'll talk tomorrow Sanji dear…" Nami called out towards him, finally moving her sacred self towards the doors.

"Of course, Milady." he answered back smoothly enough, but feeling fucking confused.

"I just thought of something.", Zoro said, rolling his eyes at their exchange, "Sanji, I forbid you to take orders from that woman." Nami made an annoyed 'hmph' sound and she shot the greenhead an irritated look

"But-" Sanji began, his very nature rebelling at the thought of not obeying a woman immediately, and without question.

"No buts.", Zoro firmly interrupted, pausing to shoot Nami a glare when the woman had the gall to snicker at the innuendo, "You do as _I _say, is that clear Sanji? _I'm your master_."

"But-", Sanji began again, but now, more than just annoyed, fucking _pissed._ He _hated _being ordered around, absolutely fucking _detested _it. Even on the Baratie he had hated taking orders from the man he loved like a father. And this greenhead is starting to piss him off. People who pissed him off usually didn't live to boast of it.

"No buts.", Zoro said again, "Now leave woman. I need to talk to him." And the oaf had the gall to jerk his thumb in his direction. Sanji's idiot-tolerance meter began to creep dangerously into the red.

_Remember your promise. If you break you word, then what kind of man does that make you, huh? You said that you would obey this man, no matter what. You got yourself into this!_ Sanji balled his hands into tight fists, feeling the dull half-moons of his nails bite harshly into his palms with the restraint.

"Fine, I'll leave you two alone to better acquaint yourselves.", Nami snickered again, and finally floated out the door, "I think I'll go talk to Usopp about getting him some better attire. Maybe something with a leash…?"

Her sweet, tinkling, decidedly evil laughter floated back to their ears. Even Sanji had to admit that it sounded anything but benevolent.

"Finally that's over with.", the greenhead muttered, and meandered his way back to the couch he had been sitting on before Sanji had walked in. He dropped down with a heavy sigh and massaged his temple wearily.

"Why the hell are you such a bastard to her?" Sanji demanded, pissed. It was out before he could stop it. And once it was out, he didn't regret it. It was his nature to defend the softer sex from any harm. Let the greenhaired idiot, for that was how he was becoming to identify his master, do what he would.

But Zoro didn't look perturbed, "Calm down dumbass. You need to know the whole situation before you open your trap. She needs someone to snap at and bitch at, and I'm just doing her a favor. Later she'll thank me for being her punching bag."

"But-wait, what?" the whole weird explanation whirled around Sanji's head. All he had seen was a beautiful lady, distressed by the financial squanderings of a green-haired buffoon who treated her like shit.

Zoro rolled his eyes, but explained, "She has this thing for Usopp. But the guy is absolutely oblivious about anything with breasts, so she gets pretty agitated at times. Needs to take it out on someone. And I'm the only one here with enough patience for that."

"Usopp? You mean the guy who was just with me?" Sanji wasn't sure at what he was most horrified at-the fact that the beautiful damsel of the orange haired lady had fallen for the man with bushy black hair or the fact that yonder green haired buffoon had been being _considerate_ to the damsel. If that was true, then he _had_ been being an ass. Anyone who helped a lady was his friend. Sort of.

Zoro chuckled weakly, "Long nose? Yeah. That's the man."

"So…I guess you _are_ doing something nice." Sanji admitted, guardedly. "Sorry…I guess." He might as well have been saying, '_fuck you, bitch'_, so nice and sincere was his tone. But it was _hard_, damn it. It was _so_ hard to be nice and sweet and slave-y.

The green haired man smiled, "Yeah, but between the two of you, I have a fucking headache. My head feels like it's going to just crack the fuck open and my brains are going to pop out."

"Tough shit." Sanji muttered. Sure the guy was maybe nice to ladies, but still it would take a lot more than that for him to sympathize with the man who owned his very body. The guy's skull could pop and crack and split into a million pieces and Sanji would just nod his head and watch cheerfully enough.

"Hey…come here." Zoro said suddenly, looking up at him with a strange gleam in his black eyes. It looked like he was trying hard not to grin outright; Sanji could see a strange tenseness around his mouth.

Immediately he was on guard, "What? Why?" What nefarious plots lurked in that green head? What unspeakable atrocities were in store for him?

"Just get your ass over here, _slave_." Zoro beckoned him disdainfully.

"_Fuck-_Fine." Sanji can literally feel his skin burning with the anger as he curbed the obscenities on the tip of his acidic tongue. He slunk over to the sofa, demonstrating with each torturous step his absolute reluctance and anger to follow the order. He stopped a foot away from the side of the opulent, cushioned couch. Refusing to get up in the other man's business. It seemed the closer he came, the deeper the shit was going to be. Sanji didn't know _what_ kind of shit, but shit it would be. The bad kind. The stinky, chunky kind of shit.

Zoro tilted his head to look at him, "Do you know how to give massages?" The little smile Sanji thought he had detected earlier was now dancing in the man's dark green eyes.

"_No_." _Nor do I want to, because so help me God, if you tell me to touch your _body_- _Sanji had been right. The Shit Sensor was _never_ wrong.

"Well, we learn something new every day, don't we?" Zoro was looking at him, and for once, Sanji realized how it felt to be the plate of food that he prepared. It was a pinning, soul-searching, _hungry_ gaze. It was a look which was predatory.

"I-I don't think so.", he was already backing away, turning to flee. There were only a few things in the world which could make him turn his back, and this, what he expected, was one of them.

"Look, just shut up for a moment all right? Here let me see your hands." and when Sanji didn't make any motion to obey, Zoro's mouth went down at the corner, and he tilted his head back to stare quizzically at the blond, "What's wrong? Scared of me?"

_Like hell, greenhairedidiot. _The words were already molding into one word. _But, my hands?_

"My-My hands?", Sanji murmured, holding them up and turning them slightly as if had never seen those fingers and palms before. They were just his hands, but they seemed to drive home the fact that he, Sanji, was not his own property anymore. Never again would he cook with these same hands for himself. The man in front of him owned his hands, his life, his cooking, his All Blue. His life was over.

_No, no, I can't think like that! I can't give up! I never will!_

"Hey-Sanji-you okay?"

Sanji shook his head fuzzily to clear the flurry of emotions whirling through his head, "It's nothing, nothing." Better that the green haired man know nothing of the anger directed towards him, that might bring suspicion or anger. No, Sanji needed the man happy and content, more eager to let him go, let him free. Zoro had already demonstrated that his heart wasn't made entirely of stone. He had saved the slaves and had been kind to that woman, Nami. Maybe if Sanji worked on him for a while, Zoro would melt and let him free?

But was he up to that? To play nice with this guy?

_If that's what it fucking takes. I'll do anything to go back to the ocean. To find All Blue. _

"Sanji?"

_All I have to do is be nice. Like I'm approaching a woman that I wish to conquer, horrible as that sounds… I have to-_

"Hey, you okay? Sanji?"

"_What,_ shithead! Will ya shut up for one frigging second?"

_Ah, fuck. Open mouth, insert goddamn leg. _Sanji waited for the explosion as Zoro's patience finally reached its top and snapped. Why couldn't he control his snarky mouth?

But Zoro just laughed, "You're a feisty one. But that's fine…I wouldn't give shit for someone who doesn't bite his master's hand once in a while. You don't let anything get to you-you're a fighter. I like that." He gave a lazy smile to Sanji.

_Uh, okay. _The Shit Sensor was detecting something, but he couldn't pick up on it.

Sanji coughed nervously and a bit awkwardly. Was it just him or did he miss something? The Shit Sensor was never wrong. "Uh, thanks… And sorry, I didn't mean to snap out so much-I'm still getting used to this whole thing-and I'm practically naked…" The words were gushing out and Sanji dealt a mental slap to himself. _Shut up, shut up, you're going to slip and call him something._

"Do you want to be fully naked? That can be done if you want. I'm not picky."

Sanji froze, his mind whirling with the implications, before he realized that Zoro was just joking. "Very funny." His voice came out a little wobbly. He wasn't surprised. That was what, the third, fourth_, fifth_ time that there were sexual undercurrents mentioned in relation to himself?

And Zoro was eyeing him in a way that Sanji didn't much care for. "Give me your hands Sanji.", Zoro invited, holding out his own.

There was no use protesting or trying to buy more time, and anyway, wasn't this an opportunity to win points with Zoro? He'd have to use every order, every command, to his own advantage. That's how he should think if he ever wished to get out of this dry, raging heat and back into the cool depths of the sea.

But still, his hands…

Sanji slowly placed his hands on Zoro's. The other man's hands were warm and inviting as any hands could be, but still Sanji could feel his very nature recoiling at the concept of placing his most valued treasures in someone else's control. He'd rather place his dick in Zoro's hands.

_Did I just think that?_

Zoro lifted his hands, with Sanji's hands and placed on his own head. Sanji's arms stiffened immediately as his hands ran through the green fuzz which was soft and utterly unremarkable. Zoro moved his hands on top of Sanji and rubbed his head, "Just-use your hands to rub my temples, and head-"

He had forgotten about the massage. Or maybe his mind was just unable to grasp the concept. So foreign and alien it was. _Him, Sanji, massage another guy? Massage? Massage? Massage? _The word had lost its very meaning in his well-founded horror.

But there was nothing he could do. Short of killing the man in front of him, and then killing himself.

Sanji had to obey, though the totality of his nature screamed at the strange, rough, caressing motions of his hands and at the small grunts of pleasure which escaped the man underneath his fingers. He slid his fingers in through the green hair and massaged, pressing the pads of his fingers against the hair and skin, and _massaged. _

Something inside of him was screaming and dying and writhing in its last throes. He believed it was called his manly ego.

Zoro moaned, and rolled his head to the side, exposing the muscles of his neck in invitation. "All right-here, just rub, around here-use your fingers, rub hard and deep, yes, like that-go lower."

There was nothing Sanji could do but obey; obey wretchedly. His hands massaged the gently oiled skin of Zoro's neck and shoulders, gripping the skin in hands which seemed too awkward to ever be a cook's. He really couldn't think. His mind was numb, frozen. Otherwise, Sanji truly believed he would have gone insane.

"Wait-let me lie down so you can do my back-"

Sanji died inside, as Zoro slipped out of the metal platelet around his neck and stretched out leisurely on the couch, lengthwise; covered by nothing but his linen skirt. Was this really worth his word? Was this really worth his honor?

_Don't you ever let me hear you say that again Sanji. Your word is everything to you. It's what makes a man! _

It was enough to galvanize him to move from behind the couch and in front, where Zoro was waiting; face stoic and eyes closed as if this was a normal afternoon for him. If there was a merciful God in heaven, then this wouldn't be.

He placed tentative hands on the upper slope of Zoro's back. As if the man's back was a live stovetop and he didn't want to burn his fingers.

"Wait-" Zoro held up a finger and pointed at a nearby table, "See that jar over there? The one with the hawk's head?"

Sanji had nearly jumped out of his skin at the man's voice, and he swallowed a rather uncharacteristic lump in his throat region, "Y-Yes…"

"It has honeyed oil in it. Use that please." And Zoro fell silent.

Sanji's humiliation was complete. He walked over to fetch the massage oil, feeling as emotionless as a robot, and untwisting the cap, poured out some of the oil onto his palms. When he had spread the sweet substance enough, there wasn't much to do except throw himself into the work.

Sanji _massaged_, his face refusing to do anything but burn as he slid his hands across naked flesh and pressed and gripped.

"-god, that feels good, Sanji-" Zoro nearly purred from beneath his stumbling fingers.

What he would give to suddenly slam the hard sole of his shoe into the man's back and have it be done with! But all he can do is bend his back, in this ridiculous little non-outfit, and slide his hands all over the man's back.

Dig his hands deep into the recesses and curves of the bronze skin , rub his hands along the shoulder blades and massage the neck.

It lasted forever. What was it really? Five minutes? Seven minutes? An eternity before Zoro mumbled, "That's enough Sanji, go wash up. I'm getting sleepy."

He walked out without a word, holding his oiled hands out as if they were covered in some form of fecal matter.

Zoro made sure that the blond was completely gone before he got up and headed to his own private showers. He wasn't sleepy, he was hard. Damn it.

He'd have to watch his back with this one.

~0~

"How do you like Zoro?", Usopp asked him cheerfully as Sanji washed off in one of the basins of water in the washroom. The longnose seemed to have magically appeared as soon as Sanji has exited the large bedroom which seemed to be solely Zoro's.

"He made me _massage _him!" Sanji snapped out, slamming his fists against the wall, "Can you believe this _shit_?" Good thing the longnose was here, Usopp had immediately come off as one of those which you could tell anything to. And Sanji needed to complain, Sanji needed to bitch. But with reason!

Usopp chuckled, playing around with the skirt around his waist, "Zoro just likes bodily touching."

"I don't give a _flying fuck_. Why do I have to _massage _him? It's too damn close for comfort.", Sanji stalked out of the washroom, feeling an impotent fury at his nakedness. His near nakedness.

The longnose tagged along behind, his voice cajoling, "Aw, Sanji. Don't be like that-Zoro's a good guy, I can tell he likes you a lot, you know."

"Maybe he likes me too much.", Sanji said darkly, "I'd prefer it if he asked me to shovel the shit out his stables." He paced the stone corridors, head whipping around for the exit. What he needed right now was a little walk to clear his spirits.

"I think you'd better get used to him.", Usopp remarked, "Zoro's already told his other sparring partner to clear out, because he's found another partner…you."

Sanji paused and smirked, "Fighting the guy I can deal with. Whether _he _can, though, is a different question altogether. Now where's the exit?"

Usopp immediately waved his hands in wide motions, "_Woah_. You're not trying to escape are you?"

"No, idiot. I gave the other idiot my word that not only would I stay here, but that'd I obey his every _fucking_ word.", Sanji muttered morosely."Otherwise, I'd be out of this shithole by now. I want to go for a walk."

"Oop! That's not allowed.", Usopp said, puffing his chest out, "As head master servant, I can't let our image suffer. All slaves represent their master. Nope, Sanji, I'm sorry, but you're staying inside."

"What-"

"Oh, and let me brief you on some of their basics of slave-ship.", Usopp said loftily, pulling out a small notebook from his skirt pocket, "Listen up, okay?"

Sanji gawked at him, "I can't believe I'm hearing this-"

"Rule Number One: Always obey the Master without delay or hesitation. Obey the Master quickly and efficiently, with absolutely no complaint and a minimum of questions. We good?"

"No, we are most definitely not-"

"Rule Number Two: Obey the Master immediately and always murmur a polite 'yes Master' or 'no Master'. Always finish your sentences with 'Master'. Your tone must be respectful and polite. As Head Servant, _I _do not have to call him Master." Usopp said, his tone proud.

'_Massage my back, Sanji'…'yes Master' _No, _no_, the mind boggled.

Usopp was ruthless, "Rule Number Three: Assume the Master's comfort before your own. Always ask Zoro if he's comfortable, or if he wants something to drink…or if he wants a massage. Okay?"

"My ass." Sanji said, stalking off. Seriously, that is where he drew the goddamn line. "Where's my room?"

"Well, I think that's all of the rules." Usopp mused behind him, "I'll tell you them as I think of them. Oh, and you're not allowed of this wing of the palace. Zoro's wing. The slave's quarters are near the main door of Zoro's wing, but Zoro asked me to place you in your own room, so follow me."

"How come I get my own room?" Sanji demanded, feeling as if something was off here. It was too good to be true.

"Because Zoro likes you." Usopp answered amiably enough.

His room was small, but comfortable looking. A small bed, a mirror opposite the bed, a dresser, and a small nightstand comprised the furniture. There was even a small window that had a nice view. The stars were out, cold and crystal. Amazing how time had flown.

"I'm going to let you rest now." Usopp said, walking out of the room, "You've had a rough time, go to sleep. You're going to have a busy day tomorrow! Good night Sanji."

"Good night Usopp." Sanji murmured back, not turning around. The door shut behind the longnose with a small, unimportant click.

~0~

_Stop flirting with the customers Octopus Face!_

_Yeah, It's just because no one has ever flirted with you, you great ape!_

Voices from another time, another place. Where would he have been right now if he hadn't gone walking that late evening?

It had been a moonlit night, and he had been strolling the streets of a nearby island, where he had gone to buy supplies for the Baratie's next dinner. He had been looking at the moon, enjoying the night life or maybe he had just been looking to catch the sultry eye of some island goddess.

There had been a high, sharp keening wail from out of a nearby alley, and Sanji's ears had perked up. A woman. It had been undeniably, a woman's cry. He had thought it was some ugly fuck trying to rape a poor woman, and so he had gone running to help.

But it had been a trap.

Later, Sanji would come to believe that it had been a deliberate trap. Sprung on him, for him. No one who didn't know him would have known he'd come running into a trap with eyes closed for the sake of a woman. And that he would have swallowed the bait so easily.

As soon as he was in the alley, the man had pressed hard at the woman's throat with the tip of his sword, '_Put your hands up and come easy or she dies.'_

Sanji, fuming, helpless, had done just that. Similar tactics had been used on him for the rest of his stay with the Foxy Pirates in order to get him to behave.

And now he was here.

Ah, women. How he would worship them and protect them until his dying day. Even if it meant that he had to massage his new master's back every goddamn day. Sanji would take it all in his stride, and when the time was right, he knew that he'd be sailing out of this stormy desert kingdom and heading home.

Home.

Sanji closed his eyes and slept.

_Home._

~0~

"Sanji! Sanji, wake up! Zoro's wants you! Wake up!" Usopp's voice and hands shaking him. Sanji struggled out of sleep and rubbed his eyes, groaning.

"What-Patty-"

"No, it's me Usopp." Usopp said and hauled him out of bed, pausing only to rearrange the sash around Sanji's waist that had gotten sloppy and disarranged through his sleep.

Sanji was slowly waking up, "Usopp? What? What-you-want-eh?"

"Zoro always trains early in the morning and late in the afternoon. Or at least trains with his sparring partner, since Zoro trains all the time." Usopp clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Point is, you need to go down to the training grounds."

Sanji grunted.

Minutes later, he was standing, again with nothing but that ridiculous sash swaddling his jewels, staring across a sunny, grassy courtyard at his master.

Zoro was rummaging through a jar filled with wooden swords, and looked up when Sanji came in. "Morning Sanji."

"Morning." Sanji muttered back, not too pleased with his early awakening, wary, and slightly embarrassed. He could almost see the honeyed oil dripping off Zoro's rippling muscles. God, was last night going to turn into a regular occurrence?

"All right. I think I told you when I bought you that I wanted a sparring partner. You strong enough to last a few minutes with me?" Zoro smirked at him from across the courtyard.

The embarrassment disappeared in a rush as Sanji felt the fighting spirit inside of him rise and claw through his throat. He was already advancing, cracking his neck, forgetting that he only had a thin cloth wrapped carelessly around his waist serving as a fig leaf.

"I think I'll show you how grateful I am to you that you _bought _me." Sanji snarled, whipping the blond hair from out of his eyes, hot enough to breathe fire. This was perfect, actually. Zoro _wanted_ to be fought with, he was literally asking to be pummeled. Sanji had sensed some strength in those muscular arms when Zoro had had him on the leash-humiliating thought in of itself-but there was no one, _no one _in this world which could fuck Sanji up.

Zoro could see the gleam in the approaching blond's eyes, and something warm shifted in his stomach. He had felt the same when he has first seen this man, murder in his blue eyes, and a will too powerful to subdue stamped across his handsome features. God, what a fighter. He had caught himself a real tiger here.

"Hey, see that line?" Zoro asked, pointing.

Sanji glanced at the ground where there was indeed a white circle painted on the grass, a circle of perhaps twenty feet in diameter. "Yeah, what about it?"

"First one out loses." Zoro said, he unbuckled the military skirt he was wearing and tossed it on a nearby barrel. Under the skirt, he was wearing exactly the same linen wrap that Sanji was. He stepped in. "Got a problem?"

Sanji grinned, and Zoro, with a start, realized it was the first time that the blond slave smiled, "Naw." No sooner had the word left his mouth that his leg was flying out after it, a powerful kick aimed at the torso. Bruising force at a velocity which aimed to damage. His left leg twisted slightly as Sanji whipped his pelvis, sending the straight leg slamming into Zoro.

Zoro's eyes widened slightly at the kick, and Sanji had to give the bastard credit at the speed with which the green haired man shot up his forearms and received the blow with the blunt of his lower arms, effectively saving his stomach or chest from damage.

There wasn't even a breathing moment. Sanji withdrew his leg only halfway only to send it rocking back in a slightly downward position, this time finding contact with Zoro's lower gut, and drawing a grunt of pain from the other man.

Again, viper-quick, Sanji, his arms slightly raised in a boxer's stance, switched feet, legs a white blur, and this time the angle was right for him to send one foot crashing into Zoro's unprotected right side. Zoro doubled over slightly to the injured side with a hiss of pain, but still grinning widely, and backed a foot away from the whirling dervish in front of him.

Sanji, slightly panting, more from the rush of adrenaline, than an actual exertion on his part, couldn't stop the triumphant smile from claiming his mouth. Inside, some imp was dancing the bagpipe and screaming, '_Yeah! That's what you get you fucker! Buy that! This slave just owned your sorry green ass!' _ The fighting was good, all the pent-up emotion, all the pent-up energy that he had been hoarding since he had been kidnapped and sold was finally coming out, it was coming out, coming out.

Zoro, after another second of watching Sanji with a strange look on his tanned face, cracked his knuckles expertly, "I hope you aren't finished. This shit's just getting started."

"Bring it." Sanji said. At least he had the presence of mind to refrain from adding some mindless insult like he usually did if he was fighting another man.

But Zoro was right. Sanji let out a little grunt of surprise as Zoro dodged his first kick, and seized the foot which went up. But it was a trick which the Baratie's cooks loved to play on him, the cooks had thought that seizing one of his legs would render him incapable of attacking, but had they been mistaken.

Without a moment's pause, Sanji dropped to his hands and swung his other leg out, slamming his foot into Zoro's shin in an effort to make him drop his left foot.

The other man grunted in pain, but otherwise didn't loosen his grip from Sanji's foot, instead, in an attempt to disbalance him, Zoro yanked hard on the foot in his hand, dancing out of reach from the swinging range of Sanji's free foot. Sanji, still on his hands, simply moved with Zoro, crawling like some blond fleshy scorpion. Just as lithe, and just as dangerous.

Zoro, forgetting that his back was approaching the white line, stopped and teetered on the edge for a millisecond. It was all Sanji needed. He was up and ramming his entire body into Zoro's chest, using the leg between them as a battering ram, his knee cap all but slamming into Zoro's torso.

Panting, blowing, puffs of air and grunts of exertion.

Zoro sacrificed his hold on Sanji's leg to save himself; as soon as his arm was free he shoved back, and slammed his own leg into Sanji's one supporting leg, attempting to topple him.

Sanji felt the blow and gasped harshly, but otherwise the leg took the attack admirably. And then the other leg was down and his right leg was up, meaning to bruise Zoro's other side.

_Come on, come on, come on_. Sanji could feel the thoughts blurring and thumping in his head like the beats of his war drums. His blue eyes bored into the green ones of his master, willing the other to submit. He really didn't know if he should be actually fighting, or playing nice so that he could get of here sooner, but Sanji _couldn't_ think about stuff like that right now. They had told him to fight and by fuck, he was going to.

This time, his leg was caught again, except Zoro, wising up, not only yanked it high, but sliding himself forward with a speed Sanji could not have believed possible in anyone but himself, gripped the top of his ass and sliding another down his thigh lifted in such a way that Sanji was helpless but to come crashing down. Sanji, feeling the anger sending his blood boiling, anger not at Zoro persay, but at the mere fact that he had allowed the other man the satisfaction of bringing him down, had time to hook a leg around the other's waist and drag him down likewise.

Then the fighting turned into a sweaty, muscle-grinding, wrestling. Sanji gained the upper hand, shoving his rival to the side and managing to get halfway up before Zoro yanked him down again, which only caused Sanji to land heavily on top of him, sideways, before twisting so that he could seize Zoro's wrists and force them down.

The sweat slid down their backs and clung to the hair on their neck.

Zoro slid his knee up to protect his cock, but the motion succeeded in loosening the sash, which already had been suffering, around both his and Sanji's waists. And the next flip had the white linen cascading messily down their naked thighs. He felt a slow surge of warmth, but promptly buried it as he concentrated on bringing the man on top, down.

Sanji felt it but didn't care. Inside, he was on fire, feeling the savage need to draw blood. He rocked forward, shoving knees up the sweaty sides of Zoro's broad torso, not minding the fact that his ballsack rested heavily on Zoro's flat, muscled stomach and his limp dick was getting intimate with the dip of Zoro's naval. In fact, these anatomical arrangements were the furthest things from Sanji's fight-lustful mind.

But they weren't to Zoro's. The green haired man fought back just as fiercely, but could feel every contour, every plane of the man above him.

The second flip had Zoro struggling to shield his privates from Sanji's crotch-seeking knee, and Sanji, angry at having lost his dominating position¸ heaved until he managed to flip the other man over, who flipped him over almost as soon. They ended up rolling back and forth on the grass, struggling and growling, the stench of adrenaline all around them.

It was a few minutes before Sanji noticed that they had passed the white circle mark a while back. He could feel Zoro realize at the same time, and their movements slacked as Zoro looked suddenly unsure. Sanji was panting openly, and the brief respite was welcome, but a strange awkwardness fell over him as he panted, eyes drilling into the man's below him. Zoro looked up at him, eyelids slightly lowered with the exertion of fighting.

There was a few seconds of silence, and then Sanji scrambled off Zoro and retrieved his own sash. He picked up Zoro's and handed it to him.

Zoro took it amiably enough and put it back on. "You can go get a drink if you want."

Sanji turned and left.

~0~

_That was strange. _

Sanji ran the cold water over his sweaty, flushed face, shuddering at the sudden frigidity. The water clung wetly to his blond head, turning the golden yellow almost brunette.

But why it had been strange, he didn't know. It just had been. One moment it had been the furthest thing from strange, it had been completely natural to feel the urge to try his very best to destroy the other man. But then, suddenly, things had changed. It had been a little too quiet. And then Sanji had wanted _off. _

_Why am I freaking out? _

Whatever. Maybe it was just the fact that he had just completed the first order of his slave existence. Maybe because now, somehow, he was officially a slave. He was fighting on command.

The humiliation, lying dormant in his chest, rose and burned. Sanji cursed fiercely under his breath, and turning off the faucet, stalked off in the direction he had come from.

"Hey." Sanji said, stopping a few feet from Zoro, and staring accusingly at him. What could he say? Sanji wasn't the kind of man who was able to stand back and wonder about his fate.

Zoro, who had been sorting the wooden swords in the barrel with a strange, preoccupied air, looked up at Sanji's arrival, "What?"

Sanji cut to the chase, "How long is this going to last? This whole slave thing?"

The other man glanced at him, and seemed to measure him before replying. "Why? Scared of being used as a punching bag?" The air of disdain permeating Zoro was tangible.

"I think you're the one who needs to watch it." Sanji snapped back before he remembered that he was supposed to be playing nice. But then the realization was simultaneous with the realization that he didn't give a fuck. "I just want to go home. Can't you understand that? Or are you too-" Sanji cut himself off.

Zoro fixed the last sword in the barrel, and looked up at Sanji, grinning openly, "Well, get used to it here because I'm not letting you go." He cracked his neck, a bored expression playing across his features, before turning and walking off.

The muscles in Sanji's neck stood out in anger, and he could feel a vein throbbing somewhere in his left temple as he watched the receding back of his master. There was more than to what Zoro had just said. The words themselves were irritating in of themselves; Sanji hadn't really expected Zoro to suddenly have a change of heart and release him from vasselship. But it was the _attitude _with which Zoro treated him. Usopp said that this guy was the kind-hearted hero of this country, but all Sanji could see was the biggest prick he'd ever laid hands on. Eyes on. The biggest prick he'd ever laid eyes on.

As if hearing the sinister thoughts running through his mind, Zoro stopped and turned halfway, tilting his head back so Sanji could see the amused profile. Immediately, the hairs on the back of his head stood up and saluted the sun.

"Oh, and Sanji?" Zoro called back, and Sanji could see his lips curling.

"What?" Sanji snapped, the coiling, expectant feeling in his lower gut inhibiting him from saying anything more, or in a nicer tone of voice.

"All this fighting tightens my muscles. You gave an _excellent _massage yesterday, so I'll see you after dinner again." Zoro walked off, humming.

Sanji just stood there, gaping.

~0~

Zoro nearly lost it right then, but thankfully he was able to control himself all the way until he was in his own rooms. Then he burst out laughing, Loud, utterly amused, barks of mirth. He wasn't a bastard at heart, he really wasn't the utter douchebag that Sanji must believe him to be.

It was just _Sanji_ who made him want to be the biggest jerk who ever wielded a sword. It was pure delight to tease the guy, even if Sanji was currently heartbroken over the sudden violation of both his dignity and life at being rendered a slave.

And at any other time, for someone this spirited at returning home, Zoro would have let them go with nothing more than a word of advice to get stronger so that they wouldn't be captured again. Hell, he'd even pay their fare home. Zoro liked to believe he was a good guy.

But there was no way that he was going to give up a treasure which had landed in his lap. A man, both ruggedly gorgeous and fittingly violent. Handsome demon. And completely subservient to him. It was not something Zoro was willing to concede lightly.

Fuck, maybe be _was _a dickwad.

~0~

A fact in which Sanji heartily concurred. After Zoro had made his dramatic exit, Sanji had needed a few seconds to pick his jaw up from off the floor and recover from the blow to the very essence of his manhood.

_Another massage?_ Did he _look_ like he actually _enjoyed_ touching the other man. Did he _look _like a glutton for punishment? So were these little _massages _actually going to become a regular occurrence? The shock was such that Sanji was left unable to do anything except question the world's sanity.

All thoughts about the fight and all questions about whether it had been awkward or not, and if it had, then why, fled Sanji's mind as pure disbelief flooded it. His hands twitched as if fear, remembering their intimacy with the other man's flesh.

His thoughts were along the line of: _whatthefuck, whatthefuck, whatthefuck, whatthefuck-_

Had he thought, when he had been chained up in the slave hold of the _Sexy Foxy, _that things could have gotten worse? Much worse?

Again, it wasn't so much the order, Sanji had to admit to himself that Zoro could have him doing things much worse; but it was the _attitude. _The attitude that Zoro exuded was infuriating. It was 5% Jerk, 15% Idiot, 5% Snob, 10% Prick, 25% Male Diva, and 50% Piece of Shit.

The guy wasn't stone-hearted, but it seemed like he had taken up the role of making Sanji's life hell.

And was currently succeeding.

~0~

Usopp grinned at him as he chowed down his victuals. The cooks here weren't bad, but they were seven worlds away from his cooking. But then, everybody was.

"How'd your first match go?" Usopp asked, sitting down beside him on a bench outside the kitchens.

Sanji favored him with a look which was enough of an answer.

The long nose laughed and patted him on the back. "First days are always hard. But Zoro really is a cool guy. I told you before that he bought me too? I got captured by slavers a couple years back."

Sanji shrugged morosely, "Why aren't you back home then?"

"Well, I always wanted to see the world. So when Zoro bought me, he only bought me to let me go, but I decided to stay with him as a page, and overtime I went up in the ranks." Usopp puffed his chest. "Someday I'll go back home, but I'm in no hurry."

"How come he doesn't let _me _go then? I'm the same as you." Sanji demanded. It just wasn't fair that Usopp who didn't want to go home, had been set free, while _he_ who _did _want to go back, was stuck here. Just wasn't fair. That feeling that Zoro was out to get him came back.

Suddenly Usopp became very interested in the tuck of his skirt at the hip, "I-I-I-I don't know. Zoro likes you a lot I guess, I mean likes you like a _friend. _And you're great fighting partner for him, yeah."

Sanji tried not to roll his eyes. Usopp was a terrible liar.

He would have said 'bitch, please', but just then, another slave poked his head from out of the kitchens, "Sanji? Oh, good afternoon mister Usopp."

"That's me." Sanji said, looking up warily while Usopp nodded in greeting to the other man, looking too cool for his skirt.

"Master Zoro is calling for you." the slave said, and smiling, bowed out politely.

Sanji dropped his head and moaned. Usopp patted him on the back sympathetically.

~0~

**Author's Note: Thankya for reading and reviewing. xD**


	4. Latter Day Lashing

**Note: **Dear Readers, I invite you all to thank the wonderful _**Fuxefuxe**_ for being a BETA. Except, she didn't beta this story, she beta-ed _my mind_ and urged me to develop this story to a greater level of sophistication! This is for you_**FuxeFuxe**_**!**

**Warning: **For NC-17 material, for questionable tastes, for strange occurrences. Turn back now if you're weak of heart.

_**Chapter Four  
**_Latter Day Lashing

I want domination, I want your submission  
I see you're not resisting, To this temptation  
I've got one confession, I love deprivation  
I've got a jet black heart, It's all fucked up and it's falling apart  
Whoa I'll never give in, Whoa I'll never give up  
Whoa I'll never give in  
-"_To Be Loved", Papa Roach _

~0~

"Go get me some fried shrimp from the kitchen."

He did, grumbling like a maniac inside, and arrived five minutes later, one hand balancing a large silver platter ladled with crispy fried shrimp and a mouth-watering sauce. He handed it to the green haired man without a word. Zoro took it graciously enough and commenced to fall to the repast.

"Go get me some lemonade, with straw."

Another journey to the kitchen, another return to Zoro's bedroom in which he handed his master the desired beverage.

"What are you doing?" Zoro paused in his eating to glance at him, "Don't just stand there, go clean my room."

He stalked off, not saying anything. He snatched some pillows which were scattered on the floor and tossed them on the bed, not really caring to see where they landed. But then, realizing that if he finished his task too quickly, the greenhaired man he _still_ absolutely could not think of as his master, might find something even_ more_ nefarious for him to do.

Sanji could just picture it—the greenhaired man would watch him with that little presumptuous gleam in his green eyes, cock his head slowly to the side, a little smile on his face and then order him to rub his feet. _Holy Sheee—it. _

Sanji slowed, taking his time to rearrange pillows and tidy the bedspread, to wipe the dust off the surrounding furniture and organize the bundles of cloth which had been carelessly tossed on a mahogany carved chair. He had just folded the first linen skirt when his hands froze.

_What the hell am I doing? _

He was being a slave, that was what he was doing. He, Sanji, talented cook of the ocean-going restaurant, the handsomest of the cooks, the fighter—he was picking up some guy's shirts and folding them. This could not be happening. It was like he hadn't realized the direness of the situation until he had begun the mundane chores which would soon encompass his entire lifetime. The shock settled into the very marrow of his bones.

It was like had half-expected for the curtain to drop on this play a while back, in the last scene. He would bow to the hidden audience and then there would be applause for the brilliance in which he had enacted his role. But now, looking at the slightly soiled cloth clutched in his hands, the realization that his life had ended, completely and efficiently, through a set of complex circumstances that he had only bad misfortune to blame, overwhelmed him completely.

_It wasn't fair._ The thought was juvenile, naïve, obvious and immature enough for it to be another humiliation to even think it. But if anything was to his credit, it would be the fact that he was struggling—not to hold back tears or cries of injustice, but to hold back a rage which would launch him over and above the promise he had made.

The most insidious thought came in the form of the small voice in the corner of his head which pleaded insistently with him, _It's just a promise…just a promise…made to someone who doesn't deserve it…just a promise…easy to break…no looking back._

Everything that made him a man revolted at the mere thought of listening to that silken voice which spoke more entrancingly then the most sensual succubus ever could. Did his word really matter more than his whole damn life?

_Yes. It does. _

How would he even live with himself if he broke his word? How would he ever eat or cook or make love in peace if he knew, deep down, that he was a coward who had reneged and cried uncle at the merest sign of trouble? Who had dropped his word, the spoken manifestation of his very dignity, only to save his skin? The answer was simple. He would not have been able to.

_Stuck. Stuck here. Stuck in the damn desert for eternity. _

The words pounded through his head in a delirious tattoo and the words lost their very meaning as Sanji attempted to contemplate the abyss into which he had dropped. It was nigh near impossible. All he knew was that there was no way out, he had been caught efficiently, terribly. His own pride had speared him, left his writhing like a fish hooked mortally on the barbed tip of a lance.

His hands clutched futilely at the forgotten linen clothes, his eyes wide and burning with the burden of unshed tears. The muscles stood out in his forearms, the chords straining in impotence.

"_Sanji!" _

He ignored it, eyes unfocused, the suffocation of his fate demanding the complete use of his faculties.

"_Sanji?" _

_Sanji, get your ass in here and stop flirting with the customers! Good for nothing sous-chef! _

Yes, sous chef at the Baratie; slave here in Adabada. Adabada? Astafasta? Arabasta? He didn't even know the name of the country which had forced itself upon him. A small, choked gurgle rose up from somewhere deep inside his chest and he choked it down fiercely. Pride, damn it. It went before the fall, but there was no way he was going to fall harder or lower than this.

He didn't even feel the green eyes upon him, didn't heat the quiet footsteps receding, the click of the door across the rooms as the man left.

~0~

The water poured steadily down his back, trickled through the gentle slopes of his browned body, ran down his legs, made his hair a dark green and pulled it down so that strands clung to his forehead.

_Let him go. I should just let him go. He doesn't like it here, hates it, hates his position. Who wouldn't? _

Undeniably true. The way the unhappiness shone out in those blue eyes every time Zoro let himself look in them. Perhaps the man was unaware of it himself. And now, when Zoro had walked in to see what the blond slave had been doing, he had undoubtedly walked in on the man when all his defenses had been down and his heart exposed. Had the blond been thinking of his own room, his own bed? Had he been thinking of his life left abandoned thousands of miles away from where he had come from? Had he been bleeding quietly inside, unable to shed tears for the tremendous loss he had suffered?

He ran his water wrinkled hands over the bristles of his hair, digging the shampoo in and through the green mess.

If the man had been just a little bit less handsome, a little bit less goddamn cool, if only Sanji hadn't been such a volatile fighter, such an unrestrained high-spirited creature—if he himself had been one iota less attracted in all the possible ways, then things might have been different. But the way things stood…Zoro might hate himself for it, grow to despise the supreme egoism and selfishness which drove him, but now, today, right this moment, there was no way he could give up the blue-eyed jewel which had fallen unbidden into his hands.

Imagine! How hard it was to even contemplate handing over the blond slave to his unalienable freedom. Who would search for the true owner of a hundred-dollar bill dropped carelessly on some street? Who would search for the lady who had dropped her priceless diamond ring in the bathroom of some restaurant? How could he hope to give up this handsome slave? Fallen into his hands, and now, all his.

But still, the issue tore his insides apart. All his morals, his ethics, his endless codes of honor battled inside the narrow trappings of his soul. But to let Sanji go…would be tantamount to submitting to never seeing the man again, and that was something he was _not_ willing to concede.

_Maybe Sanji, with time, will grow accustomed to the life of servitude. _

And as soon as the weak-kneed thought ran through his mind; his very heart scoffed at it, making a mockery of his flimsy justification.

~0~

It only took him a minute to get his emotions under tight rein. A quick shake of his head, a cementing over of mind and soul—and his eyes were dry, his mouth set. Somewhere, sometime, the greenhaired one had left the apartments. Sanji had peeked out into the larger room before finishing up the bedroom proper and seen the absence of moss but had taken no particular notice of it. The greenhaired man had just probably decided to take a walk or a shower or something.

He took advantage of the absence of the other to make his rounds of the room, hand tugging uncomfortably at the white linen which wrapped skimpily around his nether regions. The room—which Sanji took to be Zoro's exclusive apartment—was large, opulent, and beautifully spacious. Huge, floor to ceiling windows on one side of the room led out onto a large balcony with patio chairs and tables and potted palm trees.

The room itself boasted an exotic medley of furniture and ornaments. Potted ferns and palm trees were scattered everywhere among gilded statues of god figures. Plush couches and armchairs abandoned and desks and tables were scattered here and there—most covered with beautiful glazed urns and small glass statues of sphinxes and crocodiles.

Sanji picked up one small urn, colored a serene mauve and turned it around in his hands, eyes running over the scene painted upon its gentle face before he put it back. The room had a strange, unused vibe to it.

_Who the hell is this guy? The king? _

He didn't think so. Not from the way the orange haired girl had treated the greenhaired man. Perhaps he was an _important personage_ at court. Minister or Advisor or maybe even Viceroy. Sanji made his way through the room—picking up trinkets and knick-knacks and examining them when they caught his eye. His master was an extremely wealthy man that was for sure. Able to throw down hundreds of thousands of bellis in order to buy the finest human flesh available. The thought revolted him and he hastily put down the bronze funeral mask he had been hefting.

But there was no use in further contemplating it. He had given his word, his promise. And it didn't matter to whom it had been given. What he had to do now was carry out his word, it was his cross. And he would bear it.

It seemed like his life had been reduced to fighting, cleaning, and doing whatever the master wanted him to do. Sanji would have to take his pleasures where he found them. If there was one thing that he secretly rejoiced in was the fact that the greenhaired man _wanted_ to be fought against, insisted upon his cooperation. Training, the man said. And to Sanji, it looked like it was going to be able to provide an outlet for his frustration and perhaps a way for him to take his revenge upon the other.

~0~

It was this thought, full and bloated in his mind that he lashed out his kick, fully meaning to break the man's nose and if he was lucky—slam his sole so hard into that particular olfactory organ so hard that the shattered flecks of bone would pierce the soft tissue of his brain and so incapacitate the man for life.

The greenhaired man whipped his head back so hard that Sanji saw the moue of pain flash across his face. But the kick which should have brought the greenhaired man to the ground merely swept by through the air, the slash so vicious that the air hummed in disapproval. The other man dropped down so fast that Sanji actually thought for a second that he had tripped somehow and fallen. But no, Zoro, a second later, had sent his own foot rocking into Sanji's shin and the blond felt the reverberation all the way to the roots of his teeth.

But it would take a lot more than a small kick to the strongest limbs of his body to make these limbs buckle. His legs had been, after all, trained by one of the most ruthless pirates to ever have raised the skull and crossbones. Red Leg Zeff, the man who had turned his feet bloody with the blood of his victims.

He kicked hard, and though Zoro tried to back off, he felt the exhilaration of joy as his foot tingled with the impact of chest and leg. _That_ would leave a nice bruise. He gloried in the few milliseconds in which he felt his bare foot drill into the exposed torso—if he could have plunged his foot all the way through, he would have.

Leg, arm, swish, kick—they were talented fighters intent on bruising flesh and breaking bone. The green haired man did not hold back and Sanji did not need to be told to follow suit. It was why he had been bought in the first place if he was to believe the other man. The other had seen in him a powerhouse, a violent streak, something which wouldn't break when bent.

Zoro bulldozed in on him; broad torso taking the swift violent jabs which Sanji managed to throw in with his feet. But the man in front waded in, hands up to protect his face, leaving everything else open to the brutal attack of his whiplashing legs. Sanji made liberal use of his opportunity, allowing Zoro to back him up, but making the other man pay for every inch of ground that he gained.

He was so caught up in the volley of violence he was fortunate enough to be able to deal—he misjudged. Sanji did not forget the wall at his back, he had the presence of mind to remember and mark it, but he misjudged the distance that he had.

One more kick, he could fit in one more kick before he was forced to dodge to the side and open up his back. But the other man didn't give him the chance. One lightning fast shove that he hadn't been expecting slammed him into the wall.

Zoro smiled, his grin only a few inches away from Sanji's face, "My win."

~0~

The sunset had always turned the waters gold. He had loved to watch the sun bleed itself out when he had worked at the Baratie. Loved the figure he cut when he leaned on the railing, wind blowing his golden hair about, pulling the white smoke of his cigarette out behind him. Loved the romanticism of the picture.

But now. The bleeding rays of the sun turned the desert dunes into a golden kaleidoscope. If he looked beyond the sprawling city then he could see the encroaching sand of the desert. And just beyond that-the small blue rind of the ocean's end. If he breathed deep, he could smell the wistful smell of the seashells, the brown kelp dying on the shore. It wasn't fair.

_Oh God. How long? How long will this charade go on? Will I really grow old and die here in this desert? Will I really be a slave my whole life? Is my life over, forever? __Have I renounced All Blue? _

He couldn't bear to confront the _yes_ which resounded through his soul. That unforgiving _yes_. He was enough of a realist to understand his position, but he was enough of an idiot to hope still. To hope that there was some way out, some way to shake loose of the invisible shackles which held him. He just had to think of it.

"_Zoro."_

He whispered it out loud. Yes, that was the key. The only key. The man whom he had promised his word too was the only one who could release him from that particular obligation. How to convince the other to let him free? It was clear that the other only wanted him for the practice he afforded in the fight. So what would happen if he held back in fighting? Would the other bore quickly enough with the easy wins that he would let him go?

Maybe. That would be plan number one.

Plan number two was what he had previously thought of. To follow the greenhaired man's orders unconditionally and try to appeal to the human side of the man. Sanji _knew_ the other had one. He would invent stories of his three young children left fatherless if he had to.

Sanji cracked his neck and let out a heavy sigh. A gust of pure sorrow and frustration and cradled his blond head in his arms.

He didn't hear Zoro's footsteps until they were upon him. He jumped and made to straighten.

The other man just laughed, "Don't worry, you're good. I didn't mean to disturb you. Stay."

He did, wary.

Zoro leaned on the railing, and looked out. "Sea born aren't you?"

"…yes I am."

"I can tell. Me—I'm a landlubber. South Blue?"

_Is he…being friendly? _

"North," he said tersely.

"I'm East."

Sanji bit back a reply, "_Do you know the Baratie?" _Instead, he said, "Oh."

Zoro was right about to say something but then another slave approached and said quietly, "Sir—the King wishes to see you."

"Well, I have to go," the other said, smiling, "I'll talk with you later, okay?"

Sanji nodded, and watched him leave, confused.

~0~

He was sitting on one of the many stone benches, eyes trained on the tiny pinprick of light left on the horizon when he felt rather than heard the footsteps crossing the connecting corridor where he had ensconced himself. Not feeling like retiring to his small bedroom like a good, old slave; he had decided to remain in the coolness of one of the palace's open corridors, just thinking.

The footsteps dragged along, quiet and whispering. Sweet kisses on the concrete; and his ears perked up. A woman's lovely tread. He could tell. He had always been able to, always would be able to.

It was a lovely lady. White linen veils covered her hair and body. Even in the darkness, Sanji could see the rich opulence of the fabric, the glamour and glimmer of jewels and precious gemstones which clung to the folds of her dress and the waves of her hair. One of the court's ladies, no doubt. He rose and bowed as she walked past, head down, her white brow furrowed.

"Oh! I didn't see you hear, Sir," the lady exclaimed, "Forgive my rudeness!"

"That's perfectly fine, Lady," he answered, touched, "You do not even have to apologize to me—you see…I'm a….servant."

"That's no excuse," the woman said kindly and curtsied to him, "I was just thinking so deeply about the situation that I was lost in my own world. Really—forgive me."

He bowed again, utterly charmed, "If I could help you to take that worry off your face, I would do it. Such a lovely and gentle lady as yourself shouldn't be bothered with such things."

The woman chuckled, "I'm sure everyone is trying their hardest to stop this civil unrest that's been brewing, Sir."

"Civil unrest?" he asked, surprised.

She looked at him, "Yes…the rebels. Don't you know?"

He shook his head, "I barely came here."

"Well, I'm sorry that I offer you a divided country," she murmured sadly, "You see—"

"Princess Vivi?" A baritone called out and Sanji saw a small group of armed guards approaching. "Is that you? Igaram is looking for you!"

"Yes, coming Chaka!" the woman called and curtsied again to him, "Excuse me, I must go," before hurrying off with the guards.

Sanji bowed again, confused, "Good night."

_Princess? _

~0~

His feet scuffed the fine sand from the dirt roads of the streets as he walked. The bag of groceries thumped against his leg. For his sojourn outside, into the bustling, sweltering heat of the noon, he had been graciously given—by Usopp—a long, thick robe such as the normal civilians wore on their daily activities. Anybody looking at him would not have been able to realize that he was a slave. Sanji could just have been a normal Arabastan man, out to the market to buy his fresh vegetables.

The days of his youth were passing in quiet, suffering servitude. It wasn't like he was whipped or abused or even subjected to degrading tasks; but the menial and mediocre nature of the routine was humiliation enough. He was often set to physical tasks when the need demanded and had become Zoro's personal room cleaner; but the majority of the time he spent basking in the wide, stone courtyard or perched on a stool in the kitchens, listening to the cooking tips of Terracotta, the kitchen's chief chef.

And of course, the fighting was constant. Their battles were what—Sanji was coming to believe—the greenhaired man treasured the most of his company. Though, often, the other man would ask him to train alongside—lifting weights, running miles, and swimming laps. He didn't refuse, _couldn't _refuse. Didn't object inside, but did not like the company. Would have been surprised to know that he had become used to it.

The other had long since discovered his refusal to fight with his hands and pried the reasons from him. The man was undoubtedly a nosy marimo-dick. As for all other topics, Sanji was proud to say that he had relinquished nothing. Roronoa Zoro knew as much about him as the first day he had arrived. No matter how much the other man questioned and pried, Sanji had been vaguely evasive. Giving skewed answers, altering responses to further his own anonymity. Details of his home, his dreams, his likes and dislikes was information he guarded jealously.

"How much?" he asked, hefting a lettuce head in his hand and crooking an eyebrow to the owner of the small vegetable stand.

The owner didn't hear him, he was busy speaking heatedly to a few other men which had gathered around his stand. The discussion was heated, rife with dramatic gesticulations and colorful swears. Sanji felt a finger of intrigue trial down his spine in spite of his determination to remain aloof of every facet of this desert ridden, sweltering country.

The shopkeeper was shaking his head vigorously, exclaiming to the fat old man who was frowning as he listened to the shopkeeper's tirade.

"I am not sure what you're insinuating Tojo! The King has been ever a faithful man, a noble man, a man fit to be king!"

"Rain falls only on the King's palace—Albarna," Tojo said darkly, "Doesn't that seem suspicious? You have to admit."

"That's why it's called the King's Miracle," another exclaimed, "It's always been like that!"

"You know what Kohza says—" another butted in.

Sanji laid a coin on the counter and walked out quietly, a wrinkle in his forehead, his conversation with the Princess running through his head. It seemed like what she had said had been perfectly right. There was civil unrest brewing. But it wasn't his problem. He shouldn't get involved.

He was putting the groceries away in one of the kitchen's larder's when Zoro walked in, eating an apple.

"Hey, back already?" The green-haired man asked, leaning against one of the counters.

"Yeah."

"You tired or do you think you can fight me again this evening?" Zoro asked, crossing a foot.

Sanji didn't turn, "I think I'm good." He could feel a strange awkwardness. They had talked out in the balcony yesterday like friends. Like they weren't master and servant. Sanji had seen another side of the man and had…liked it. Had Zoro just done that on a whim? Or had he sincerely wanting to know more of him?

Zoro did not reference last night. "Nice, I'll see you in the patio at around 7." And with that, the other man wandered off. Like nothing had happened.

He was standing there, confused, when Nami approached, looking divine clothed in nothing but a few sequins and some silk. "And how has our latest addition been settling in?"

He bowed and kissed her hand¸"I'm getting...used to it Madame."

Nami smiled, "Well, watch your back with that one," she pointed the way Zoro had left, "or you'll end up regretting it."

"Why?" he asked, wary.

The orange haired woman looked surprised, "You haven't figured it out yet? Zoro hasn't said anything to you?"

"No…about what?"

Nami looked surprised, "Well…it's obvious where his _preference_ lies, isn't it?"

Sanji felt the stirrings of suspicion and dread, but he refused to contemplate them, "I don't understand Madame."

She was fast looking like she had uttered something she wished to bring back, "I thought you knew—no one's very quiet about it—that, well, Zoro likes men and he likes _you —" _

"_What?" _

Nami turned and hurried off, leaving him stunned. He didn't even say anything, mind still processing, when Usopp found him as still as a statue, and pressed a bucket of soapy water on him to go scrub Zoro's floor. He went, robotic.

~0~

Mind numb. Shocked from the thoughts that were currently spiraling around his head. Zoro, gay. Zoro, liking men and men's bodies. Zoro, possibly liking _him_, wanting _him. _Zoro with the power to claim him, who already owned his body. _Every single_ _fucking part of his body. _His lips, his chest, his hands, his cock, his ass. _Everything. _Zoro who could order him to do anything.

_This wasn't what I thought was going to happen. _

Sanji scrubbed mindlessly at the stone floor in the living room, wiping up the immense quantities of sand that always somehow seemed to find itself inside the palace regardless of the staff's many attempts to hinder its entrance. He had been there for what seemed hours, thinking like mad. This wasn't what he had planned for when he had agreed to obey Zoro as a master. He had agreed, thinking that a life of hard labor awaited him, a life in which he would be forced to carry and serve and reap and sow and countless other menial tasks. He had never even thought that he would ever be a…brothel servant. A slave solely there to give pleasure. No, that was impossible.

_What if, what if he tries to do something? What if he comes on to me? Am I just supposed to lie back and take it as he uses me? As he fucks me! Am I really going to take this in order to keep my word? Is this worth my word? _

His mouth was set, eyes wide in frustration and a fear which he didn't recognize. The muscles in his arms and forearms stood out more than they should be, scrubbing a simple stone floor. The anger, the pulsating fear, the indecision, the humiliation, was ripping his soul apart.

Footsteps. Sanji jerked his head up, the blond hair falling across his eyes for just a second before the door flew open and he saw his master stalk in, his face dark, pissed. Zoro strode across the room and stripped the linen shirt he was wearing off, seeming not to see his kneeling form in the corner. The other man had a hand plastered to his forehead and he stopped suddenly, looking at vase.

"_You idiot! Why'd you open your stupid mouth!" _Zoro yelled suddenly, his voice harsh and there was a crash as something was thrown. Sanji watched as he walked quickly to the balcony, and placed his hands on the sill, breathing hard.

He was frozen. Unsure what to do. The bare back of Zoro gleamed with either sweat and water as he watched it. The muscles clearly visible. Sanji could hear his own breathing, the silent drum of his heart. Not wanting to commit the slightest action lest the noise give away his position. Should he try to sneak out the door?

_Cowardly. _

Sanji discarded the idea as soon as it formed in his mind. He was not going to sneak out, wasn't going to hide, wasn't going to stay frozen like a whipped puppy whose master has just walked in. He willed his hands to move, to continue the scrubbing motions against the tiled floor. Zoro didn't know he knew; he needed to act normally, act like nothing had happened, like nothing had been told him.

The scraping sounds of the hard sponge against the slate floor began, sounding loud and obscene to his nervous ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he kept tabs on the turned form.

Zoro turned, too quickly, and stared at him. Sanji refused to acknowledge the gaze, only saw the outline of the other's form. His pulse quickened.

Zoro made his way through the room, approached him. Sanji glanced up and nodded tersely, meeting his eyes for only a brief second before he returned to his task.

The other man stopped a foot away from him and stared down at him silently.

He swallowed back the thick wad of saliva that was threatening to accumulate in his throat and forced himself to make natural, casual movements.

"Oh, it's you. How ironic, how funny is that?" Zoro asked and Sanji had to suppress an urge to jump when the other hunkered down beside him.

"Of course it's me, who else would be here scrubbing your fucking floor?" he asked, too nervous to realize that he had forgotten to bite back the vulgarity, the insolence he was supposed to be restraining so that Zoro would warm up to him and let him go.

"Sanji."

"What?"

"Look at me."

His heart nearly tripled in its contortions, "Why? Why would I want to see your ugly mug?" And with a shocked horror, he realized that his arms were so tense that they were trembling.

"_Look at me," _Zoro's voice was tight, as tense as Sanji felt.

He looked up, ashamed and defiant. His knowledge plastered all over his features. There for anyone to see.

Zoro's eyes bored into his and eons seemed to pass as those green eyes interrogated him.

Finally, the other man made a scathing noise and reached out, the back of Zoro's hand grazing along the curve of his jaw.

Sanji did not jerk away from the touch, didn't flinch; but his head lifted a little, almost subconsciously, and he turned away from it, eyes narrowing. He couldn't help the distaste which filtered across his features, the anger.

Silence. Their breathing was labored, as if they had been running, or fucking.

He tried not to swallow again, to show his helplessness. All Zoro was doing was staring at him and he had no fucking idea what to do, how to stop it.

And then, in a split second, Zoro had grabbed him, hands gripping his arms and lifting him, driving him back—and he fought back, pushing forward, balance skewed so bad that he couldn't maneuver properly, didn't know anything until his back hit the stone wall and he spat out a grunt of pain before Zoro face was in his and Zoro's body trapping his own against the wall and there were foreign lips invading his mouth and he turned his head away, angry and scared. Hands up against Zoro's bare chest, holding it off.

"What?" Zoro said softly, "Isn't this what Nami told you to expect? That I wanted you only for sex? That I bought you so you could be my own personal whore? Isn't this what _you_ think what I want to do to you?"

The questions soaked through him and alarm bells, already shrieking like madwomen, screamed harder. _Yes. _That was exactly what he had been picturing when Nami had told him about it all. The answer was _yes. _But what was he supposed to do? Honor his word? Break it? Allow this charade to continue? He didn't know. He had been given no time to decide, to think through it and formulate a solution. All he could do was—

Sanji forced his head back, forced himself to glare, to transmit all the blackest thoughts he could conceive through the weight of his gaze, to communicate his utter unwillingness to undergo the injustice he was being subjected to.

He heard the breath catch in Zoro's throat and the green eyes all but burned his skin. A hand slid up his ripped stomach and he jerked in shock, hand automatically seizing the interloping hand, stopping it halfway.

Sanji swallowed and spat out, unsure of what he was going to say until he said it, "Nami told me everything."

Zoro didn't even flinch, "I can tell. And I wouldn't have been so fucking pissed if it hadn't been true."

"What! Then—it's true—" he choked out, too shocked to say anything. He had been expecting some sort of denial, some sort of lame defense—not an admission of guilt.

"What's true? That I want you?" Zoro's eyes raked down his body, paused at his lips, and looked back into his eyes, "That I wish our relations were more intimate? Yes, that's true. I'm not going to deny it." He yanked his hand out of Sanji's grip and settled on the top of the linen skirt, tugging hard on the flimsy material. Sanji clutched at it.

_Is he going to fucking rape me?_

The other man barked laughter, "But it seems like you will having nothing to do with me. Not even had our relationship been different. "

That was too much for Sanji. Fury rose up, all the more potent because of the humiliation and fear which had been its fodder.

"You shithead!" he hissed, "You fucking shithead! I lost my life the moment you fucking bought me and I gave you my fucking word that I'd behave so that those women could go free! I'm no better than a dead man! I lost everything! And you think I'd _want you_! And even if things had been different—which they're _not_—I_ am not into men! _And if I was, I'd rather kill myself then let _you_ have me!"

Zoro's face only twisted once and then went smoothly blank, impossible to read. "You want your freedom."

"_Of fucking course I want my freedom! _You think I like it here in this hell? You think I like fighting with you? I have a life, friends, family—_"_

Zoro cut him off, "Would you do anything for it? If I let you go?"

Sanji froze, mind scurrying like a rat to realms he did not want to think about, "I—I—Of course I would. I gave you my word and I'd rather leave here without having it broken if I can help it. Why—" He was thinking bad thoughts, nasty thoughts. His mind was squirming like an apple full of worms and it was killing him.

"Let me make you a deal," Zoro said suddenly, his voice sharp yet soft, "Are you willing to listen?"

"Y—Yes."

With his other hand, Zoro held up a finger. "One."

Sanji looked at it stupidly, "One?"

"I'll let you go in one year."

He swallowed, "Really?" The suspicion all but raping him. The saliva was dry and thick in his mouth and the world was never so distorted as it was at this one moment in time.

Zoro looked at him silently for a second and then traced a hand across his cheekbone, "Yes, I'll let you go in _one year_, starting tonight, if you allow yourself…to submit. I'll let you go if you let me be your lover." His face was blank, calm even.

Sanji had known it was coming, had felt it, but still, the word, the word _lover_ pierced right through his chest and dealt a paralyzing shock.

_This cannot be happening. _

"I—I—I don't—"

"Sanji—yes or no?

"You can't—I need some fucking time—"

"I'm only going to ask this once," Zoro said, there was no emotion in his stoic face, "Yes…or no?"

_If I say no then I have no chance of ever getting out without breaking my word. If I say no then it's all over, really over. If I say no, he can do anything he wants still. If I say yes—it's just one year, one year! Can I take it? Can I take being fucked my someone I hate? By this man whom I don't know? _

_Yes I fucking can. I'm Sanji. I can do this shit. _

He turned away. He could submit, he could look into this man's eyes with his back straight. But he couldn't do both at once.

"Fuck you," he spat. But there was no fire in it, no passion. It was a surrender.

Zoro must have understood it because he did not ask Sanji to clarify. He didn't even move, just stayed there, breathing softly, hand still fisted in Sanji's skirt, the other hand pressed against the wall.

Seconds passed like minutes and then Sanji felt the hand at his chin, gripping it and forcing it back. He turned his neck stiffly and he was looking into the swarthy pirate face again. Zoro neared and Sanji closed his eyes as their lips met.

Zoro kissed him slowly, and Sanji writhed inside at the unwelcome presence and refused to move his lips back. His hands were claws, his stomach, ice.

The other man drew back and looked at him, "Kiss back..."

The second kiss was deeper and though Sanji still didn't cooperate, Zoro did not mention it. Only now there was a hand in his hair and he hated it. The first kiss he ever received from a man.

_Let this happen, let this happen, let this happen. One year, one year. _

Zoro drew back again and tugged him from the wall. Sanji, feeling like he was caught in between time and space, followed, numb to the pith.

The bed approached like a monster. A nice, large canopy bed, covered in silks and velvets and ornamental pillows.

He didn't really know how he ended up on it, on his back, head pressed against the pillows at the head of the bed, hands clenched into fists by his side, breath constricted because Zoro was heavy and because his mouth wasn't his anymore.

Sanji felt the fingers pry beneath his skirt and he gave a small grunt. A small scathing noise of anger. And his hand flew to stop the invasion.

Zoro stopped, "Sanji…"

He couldn't say anything, but when Zoro's hand insisted, he let it go, let his only garment be unwound and laid out so that he was nude on the large bed. Nude and flaccid. He was the farthest thing from aroused. Something Zoro couldn't say. Sanji could see the tent, the triangle of erection, straining out of the flimsy white linen.

The other man stared down at him for a second and then gently forced his legs up and out, so that his knees were bent, making a rhombus of his lower limbs. And then, without meeting his eyes, Zoro grasped his limp length and squeezed.

He jerked his hips and gasped, and again he couldn't help himself from putting a hand on the other's and attempting to draw it off. "Don't—"

Zoro didn't listen and drew his hand up, tugged at the head, slid down, finger's gripping the base.

He gasped again and snapped his thighs shut, trapping their hands in embarrassed flesh, heated to the touch, "Don't—Don't—please—" He couldn't look into Zoro's face.

Because he felt the blush of arousal seeping through his pores. Could feel the heady groans wanting to escape, hiding in his belly, could feel the accumulating blood trickling into his penis, the very moan of his semen.

_I am not getting hard. _

But he was! He was! Zoro's hand slid up and down, coaxing him into heated hardness, forcing him to erection. He was gasping, grunting, eyes threatening to roll up and groan. He was propped on his elbows, face flushed, unable to think coherently.

Zoro spread his legs, urged his knees apart and Sanji let them fall open, cut apart as softly as steel through butter. His swollen and hard erection stood up between them and Sanji didn't even bother to look away. He couldn't look away. Just sat there, propped on elbows, thoroughly ashamed for his arousal, looking at Zoro though his pants.

The other man, on his knees, bent his head forward and before Sanji could jerk away—his mind had refused to believe what was going to happen—a warm and steamy mouth captured the head of his reddened cock and sucked at it.

He tried to pull his legs together but Zoro's hands stopped him and there was no way he could stop from crying out repeatedly because it felt fucking _good_ but it was _wrong_. He wasn't supposed to like it, but he did and it felt great and he was horrified that it should.

"Zoro!—please no, please no, please no, please no—" He didn't know how long his mind screamed no while his cock rejoiced at the wet slurping, at the moist surroundings, at the way Zoro's tongue ran along the stiff length and sucked at the slit and swallowed the eager semen. He was rambling, begging for the other to stop, _stop now._

And then Zoro did, pulled off and left his arousal slick with saliva. And somehow, when he hadn't been looking, Zoro had pulled off his own apparel and moistened his arousal with oil.

"Put your legs up," Zoro said, and his voice was gentle, slightly shaking.

The words made no sense to his mind and he said, dazed, "I—I don't know how to—how you do it."

"Shhh…I'll teach you," and with that, the other man took his limbs and brought them up and then Sanji felt something hard and heated pressing inside and he let out a groan that was more a whimper than anything.

And then, skin that had never before given way, let Zoro's erection squeeze through. His head fell back and he openly cried out as Zoro pushed in and let him take it all up his ass and it was just one year of this—

"Sanji—Sanji, look at me—"

How could he _not_ look up and writhe under that gaze that was eating him alive? And there was something hard, something hot in his body and it felt unnatural, yet when Zoro rocked his hips in he cried out because it felt good.

They rocked together, molded nicely, perfectly.

He came, semen shooting out thickly, feeling like an eruption, hitting Zoro's brown chest and sweaty muscles and the shame was so great he didn't even feel it. The white orgasm ran down his length and pooled in the lines of his bent body and Zoro plunged into him a few more times before he, too, froze discordant and Sanji felt the foreign rush in his ass.

Sanji's mind was numb, his body number, as Zoro put down his legs and unbent his tired body, bent his head and wiped off the orgasm from his chest and licked it off his fingers. Didn't stop running his tongue over Sanji's belly and slowly unstiffening cock until everything was wet and the come was gone.

~0~

Author's note: I busted my ass to get this done tonight since I'm going on vacation. I'm glad the plot's moving now. Please review! Thanks. My mind's really nasty by the way. Duhh...


	5. In Black Velvet

**Chapter 5  
**In Black Velvet

From the moment the lights went off, everything had changed  
Lying awake in an empty room and my head it don't feel the same  
Like the taste of the day you left; it still lingers on my breath  
And the dampness of the tears that you left, the stain where you had wept  
All alone with the negligee that still hangs off of my bed  
I keep meaning to give it away but I just let it hang there instead  
Why do you do this to me? You penetrate right through me.  
Every time I wind up back at your door  
Three days left until I see your face, I'm afraid it's far too much  
Cook a meal and fix up the place, dial your number, hang it up  
If I took you for granted, I apologize for acting tough  
You're my reason for living now, there's no way I'm giving up  
'_Back at Your Door', Maroon 5_

~0~

Then, the then and after. He lay there, feeling used and disgusted and above all, feeling _fucked._ There had been someone, a _man_, inside of him, dragging from his body all those sensations of sex and taking from his throat those moans and cries reserved for personal moments of intimacy. But he killed the whimpers which threatened to climb from his larynx and spew out into the bed. He murdered the sobs ruthlessly, but he could not stop the slight shivers which racked his body every time he shifted his body even slightly and felt the heat in his ass, felt the flare of presence in a place where he had never felt such sensations. But how is heart shuddered.

"Shh…shhh," the man beside him traced a hand down his arm's side and pressed lips to the curve of his shoulder and Sanji shook hard at the touch. The lips traveled from his shoulder to his neck and over his jaw, and he closed his eyes tightly before he felt hands pulling him to lie fully on his back and felt the mouth on his.

A strange hand, rough with fingertips covered in calluses whispered over his sweaty chest. Everything recoiled from the caress, and yet he did not move. Because there really wasn't anything to do anymore. He had cast his lot.

The body above him was hot to the touch, sweaty. Sanji could only interpret the touches, the textures; his eyes were sealed shut, letting nothing but the blackness in. He was shaking hard, not the trembling, fear-struck shaking of a little child lost in the jungle, but the tense, body-aching shaking of a man whose very soul is being wrenched from his hands.

Hot lips pressed into his neck, He would have welcomed the fangs of a vampire to the soft, frighteningly tender smoothness of those lips.

The breathing above him increased slightly, ever so slightly. Needy gusts of air. He cracked his eyes open, hands clutching bedsheets to his side. His hand was seized in a strong grip and Sanji gave a grunt of shock as he felt his fingers kissed roughly and then plastered unceremoniously over a hardening penis, Felt his hand drawn up and down across that length as the man above him moaned quietly and murmured his name. It was hot and hard, ready for copulation, and he drew his hand back as if burned by the heated flesh, proudly erect.

There was just that shock so deep, that surrender so total at that minute in time that he wasn't even thinking. Couldn't have told the casual spectator the name of the man using him so thoroughly, couldn't have remembered his own. The events unfolded in that large bed, through the evening, like a heated, sticky nightmare. The unreality was deep, the fantasy too potent for words. There was only that blurry, terrifying warmth. He was belly to belly with the bedhsheets and setting the whole bedframe to tremble as it creaked and groaned in unheeded protest of the rough sex which was just a breath short from being cruel. The night lasted forever, the time smeared and blurred, he lost his lucidity and retreated into a shell made of black, porous velvet, locked in the painful throes of lust.

~0~

The cool breeze kissed his sweaty body and made the rippled gooseflesh break across his brown skin, tanned from so many days passed under the unforgiving sun of Arabasta, the Kingdom of Sand. He had left the blond dream in his canopy bed. He was slumped over the balcony's railing, naked except for a soft linen wrap around his waist. And it was impossible to describe the swirls of emotion inside him.

It had been everything he had imagined, everything he had feverishly fantasized about. Taking that muscled and svelte body to the pinnacle of heat and riding those lean flanks until he felt his semen pumping out. Eyes turned a midnight blue, brimming with humiliation and a hatred devoid of sanity, his face hot to the touch, the swollen erection. All that unfolding underneath him. The sex, the way he remembered the same body twisting and sweating as it fought. The sex, too exciting, hot as the desert sun and just as dangerous. Zoro could feel the adrenaline, the way his belly shook inside with the thoughts that he was riding a jaguar, making love to a viper. He was on edge the entire time, anticipating with Sanji's every twist a violent explosion.

But no, the mustang had allowed the saddle to be placed; more, he had allowed the mounting and the furious, frenetic riding. The thought caused Zoro to shake his head and groan, the sound of regret losing itself in the emptiness of the desert sands. He had no fucking idea how the situation had spiraled out of control. There had been a black heat, a shame inside of him. Nami had edged up to him after he had finished chatting with Chaka, a guilty, sorry look in her amber eyes.

When he had heard, it had been like a foreign fury had enveloped his insides. It was the thought that he had lost forever the man whom he had been developing a strange form of friendship. Already he could see the contempt, the scorn, the fear in those ocean eyes. Eyes as blue as the waves from the ocean that had brought him from over the horizon.

And then, the blond slave, scrubbing on the floor. The moment Zoro had seen the whites of his eyes, the moment Sanji's body had tensed in a way it never had when Zoro had touched it. It had driven him insane. A drunken hurt had swallowed him hungrily. And he had surged forward to seize that body and force it to confront him. And then, stupid things, idiotic things, selfish things had spilled from his mouth like vomit. Stay here one year, let me make love to you, let me fuck you for your freedom, get on my bed and spread them because even though I'll never admit it, even to myself, I've been wanting to taste you since I first saw you there on that auction block. Goddamn you, goddamn me.

"Calm down…" he breathed, "Calm down, damn it."

He had fucked up. He had taken the apple and relished its sweet, tender flesh; had damned himself forever. And not content with the first bite, he had flipped the abused man over and seen the smooth, sweaty glory of the strained muscles of the lithe back contorting and crying out as he thrust the hot pillar of his erection as far and as hard as he could into the black crevasse of the man's tense buttocks. Not caring if the man cried out and clawed at the sheet and lost his voice in his embarrassing pleas for no more. He had ripped the man's virginity from him, nothing less. The only thing separating this from the savage conquest of rape had been a flimsy agreement based on nothing but dishonor and rascality.

"Fuck it," he whispered, "I saved his life. I saved all of their lives." But he knew that it was shit and the words were slimy in his mouth.

Zoro spat over the edge and walked back, the knowledge that the hungry sands had swallowed the miniscule droplet of water greedily even before he reached the balcony door, weighed heavily on his shoulders for some absurd reason. The desert struck him in its totality, in its immense age, and in its cruelty for those who lived there.

The body lay on the coverlets just as he had left it. Collapsed on his stomach, arms and legs tense. Oily sweat clinging to white muscle.

"Are you okay?" Zoro asked softly, awkwardly. Astounded by his own stupidity.

No answer. The red marks on the smooth curves of the man's ass, the red marks on the curves of his hips made his mind burn. Already, the desire was stirring in his stomach, seeing the rough, muscled body nude—remembering the way the man had screamed as the thick shaft of his erection had filled Zoro's mouth. He could have ravaged the body again and again.

"Do you want to get up? Go to your room?" He touched Sanji's side tentatively. The effect was electric.

"_Stop touching me! Haven't you touched me enough!" _

Zoro drew back, shocked. Sanji struggled up, his mouth twisted into a snarl. But then, it was as if he realized his nakedness and drew back into himself. His body slackened and he turned away. It was as if he realized that there could be no modesty between them ever again, there could be no embarrassment, no shame of sexuality and nudity—they had been too relentlessly locked together to ever separate. Zoro would feel himself inside Sanji for as long as he lived.

"Just…leave. Leave me alone. Get the hell out why don't you?" Sanji's voice was dull, "I'm not going anywhere. You have what you want. You have this shit for a year. Go away."His voice trailed off tiredly.

There was nothing really he could say to that so he obeyed for once in his life and left the room, pausing only to snatch up a long, flannel robe.

~0~

Chaka found him outside the King's showers. A large building housing several stone-cut lions from whose mouths poured hot steaming water, warmed by the blazing Arabastian sun. He wanted to get underneath the faucets and turn the dials to scalding and try to wash from him that sense of shame. He didn't know what the hell he should do with the blond slave in his bedroom.

No.

He knew what he should do. And he didn't want to do it. Not yet. He was damned already, why couldn't he hold on to the leash of the jaguar a few moments longer? Already he saw the thrusts of his body, the sweat on his back. The heat was burning him, but he just couldn't pull his hand from off the throttle.

"Royal Swordsman!"

The voice pulled him back from the door and back into the cool night. It was Chaka, Captain of the Royal Guard. A blocky, brown skinned face with the sharp face of a jackal. Handsome in a kind, brutal sort of way.

"What is it Chaka?" He wasn't in the mood to talk, had never been much of a talker in the first place. Zoro turned away, setting his body language to tell the Captain that today wasn't his best day. That he had never been in less of a mood.

Chaka strode up to him and took his hands in a strong grip, the muscles in his forearms flexing subtly, Royal Swordsman. We meet again. I've just been pacing the corridors, walking, thinking, trying to make sense of this chaos. You'd think I was pondering the secrets of the universe."

Zoro just lifted one broad shoulder and let it down. "The King is going to have to take definitive steps soon. And it's clear what choices he has: crush the rebel forces in Yuba…or abdicate the throne."

"Never," Chaka said shortly, "I'd kill myself before I let the King step down from a seat that has been passed down in his family for millennia. All of them fair and just leaders, King Cobra perhaps the fairest of them all. A greater king this country has not seen—and yet they wish to drag him from his proper place with their slander and with their bloodshed. Idiots!" By the end of the tirade, the Royal Captain was breathing hard and speaking harshly.

He held up a hand to signify his reluctance to enter into heated conversation, "Then Cobra will have to suppress the rebellion at once."

"The King would never do that," Chaka muttered, "He still believes that this…situation…can be solved without any bloodshed. I suggested that we send a small battalion to Yuba in order to suffocate the movement before it gains momentum but he vetoed my idea. I'm sure he wishes to avoid even the single death."

"Impossible," he said shortly.

"If only it would rain!" Chaka ejaculated suddenly, "If only it would rain!"

~0~

He struggled and managed to trip out of the bed bare seconds after he had heard the man close the door. Sanji couldn't bear to lie there in the musk and muck a minute longer. He dragged himself away like a man would drag himself from out of the abyss. But drag himself away he did. And the greater the distance away from the bed, the greater the energy seemed to revitalize his tired and aching body and he scrambled to his knees, thudding heavily to the carpet only once or twice, before he regained his feet and managed to gain the room proper.

He knocked over a few glazed pottery jars and a gold-plated statue of a falcon before his hands desperately seized the door jamb and he threw wide the door and slammed into the wall opposite so hard that he cried out.

Then, using the wall as support as greedily as a drowning man grasps at the skin of his lifesaver, he stumbled down the hall, oblivious to his nakedness. No clear form of the idea of getting to the sanctuary of his room presented itself in the primordial soup of his mind, but only a few moments later he found himself fumbling at the doorknob of his room.

It was dark, exactly as he had left it, and Sanji did not bother to illuminate it. Instead he slammed the door shut and fumbled at the latch, trying the lock three or four times to make sure that it was secure. And then he collapsed on his own, pure, untainted bed. The sheets were cool to his fevered cheek, the scent plain and clean. Unmussed. Sanji buried his face in the sheets and pillows and let the tears flow. Except he was too tired to manage much more than two or three drops that trickled slowly down to his lips where he could taste the saltiness. Only then did the desolation fill him for the salt tasted like the sea foam of the ocean he had left behind.

~0~

He didn't know for how long he had slept; didn't know when he had slipped away, lying there in shame and an agony of conscious. But when he awoke, the dark outside the window had intensified to ink. Only the light of the gibbous moon cast a square of light into this little room.

Sanji got up slowly and swung his naked legs over the bed. A flare of pain inside of him, radiating out from his anus, made him hiss and give a small moan. But he forced himself up and to the window. Sanji could see enough from the stars to tell that it must be two o'clock in the morning or so. As a man always in the middle of the ocean, used to the waves of the sea and to the dangers of the ocean; he had been always aware to work with the bare minimum. He only needed the stars to tell the time.

He settled himself slowly in a small wicker chair, treating his backside like glass, and taking a small blanket from his bed, covered himself with it.

_I need to get out of here. I don't care. I need to get out, I need to get out—_

Sanji shut out the frantic cries of his mind and forced himself to coherence. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, but his stomach coiled tight and made him feel nauseous and light-headed. He threw the blanket off violently and got up restlessly, breathing fast. In a disused wardrobe he found a few robes, clean but slightly old, and he put it on in short, jerky motions. Not thinking. Every time he tried to think, his mind would howl out the same repetitive cry for salvation.

Instead he hurried to the door, and tried to open it several times before he remembered that he had locked it earlier and stopped to thumb open the latch, his hands shaking. Then he was out in the cool air of the open corridors and walking fast. Pausing only once to glance back down the straight corridor and freezing only momentarily. Light spilled from underneath the door of the man's room in a wide fan. _He_ was up. What was he doing, that man? Was he sleeping the same bed in which he been used? Was he sitting on the sofa and just staring at the wall, repentant? Was he even there? Or had he simply forgotten to extinguish the lanterns?

It didn't matter, he shouldn't care. Let the man do what the hell he wanted when it didn't concern. He was off, limping slightly, and holding onto to the walls for balance. Sanji wasn't even sure where he was headed, but he _needed _to walk, to know that he wasn't hiding in his room, that he still had some remnants of pride in his spirit. But if he had been stopped and asked, Sanji couldn't even have formulated this thought and articulated it; he simply knew that he had to get up and move.

Perhaps he was heading to the exit, and perhaps if he actually managed to find the main gate and slipped through it, he would have kept on walking without looking back—not thinking of what had happened, not thinking of what lay ahead, not thinking of what he had promised and whether it was foolish or righteous to honor such a vow. Sanji would have just put one bare foot in front of another and kept on walking.

But as it happened, he did not find the exit, but managed to lose himself in the labyrinth of the Royal Palace. It wasn't until he realized that he was in a wing of the palace that he did not in the least recognize, did Sanji realize that he was quite lost. The idea did not faze him and in fact he was somewhat relieved to have managed to get away from it all. He looked around with a rising sense of curiosity and took note of the rich tapestries hanging from the stone walls, the suits of armor standing at the corners of the hallways, the large oil paintings of large lizards and camels, the velvet drapes.

He walked slowly, down the middle of the carpeted hall, glancing at the walls in turn. It was sometime during this long walk that he realized, gradually, and with a swirled sense of horror and a pride so great that he meant to stay and live out the year that he had promised that man.

Sanji curled his hands into fists unconsciously and swallowed thickly. He still refused to think of the intercourse that he had shared, would not, could not—but there it was. He was going to live this through. It was because he had given his word not once, but twice. It was because his word was all a man was worth. It was because in a world rampant with cowards and lowlifes not worth the rope that hung them, there was such a thing as honor, as dignity, as pride, as confidence in the conception of chivalry.

Because chivalry was not just about respecting and protecting women above all else, even one's own life; it was about respecting one as an individual, it was about being honorable, it was keeping your word and paying your dues. He had struck a deal with the devil, had forfeited everything for what he believed in. And the only way out was to grit your teeth and hold on. But hold on he would because if he didn't then Sanji knew that he would never make it up to himself if he lived to watch the sun disappear.

It was as these harsh and proud thoughts were running through his mind that Sanji came upon, for the second time since he had arrived in this Kingdom of Sand, the Princess of the Desert, Nefertari Vivi. She was sitting on a stone bench on a small balcony overlooking the city, and she was sobbing as if her heart was broken.

~0~

And broken it was. The love of her life was splitting in two and there was nothing that she felt she could do to stop it. But Sanji did not know this when he turned the corner and he saw a bent figure shaking hard on the bench on a small balcony, facing the other way. He hesitated, but before he could make a decision to turn and leave or go forward and greet the person, the figure started violently and whipped around. He flinched at the rapidity of the detection and his heart leaped at the pathetic sight of that tearstruck face.

But then he recognized the lovely face, with the large baby blue eyes and the bright blue hair which clouded the white marble of her sharply featured, intelligent face. Tearstained and red-rimmed eyes were not enough to detract from the beauty of that fine face. It was the Princess. He had spoken with her in the darkness ages ago, remembered clearly now her sweet gentleness, and had in the weeks and weeks since then realized who she was. The royal daughter of King Nefertari Cobra and the late Queen, next heir to the throne of Arabasta. Admired and respected for her intelligence, her fair honorable judgment, her vast vistas of knowledge; but loved above all for her compassion and her humanity.

He bowed immediately and said soothingly, "Forgive me the intrusion Princess. I was simply walking…I was unable to sleep tonight unfortunately."

"Ah, I'm sorry, you startled me," the princess smiled in apology, "I've been under so much stress that every little noise sets me off. I've been crying like a right crybaby; it's a luxury I haven't been able to afford lately." Her voice was wobbly, filled with tears. She wiped furiously at her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her linen robe and cleared her throat.

He approached slowly and stopped a few feet away respectively, "Sanji, court servant, at your service, your highness. I've had my own troubles too, Princess. That's why I've taken to wander around like an insomniac. I'm sorry again that I startled you—let me go if I am disturbing you."

The princess smiled and held out a white, dimpled hand, "No…come sit with me Sanji. Perhaps we will find consolation for our own distinct troubles soon. Have I met you before?"

"Once," he admitted, sitting down on the bench beside the young woman, "And in a like situation. I was sitting down and you walked by and I startled you then too."

"I thought I had seen you before, heard your voice before," she murmured and turned back to the view of the night sky, "Have you been enjoying your time here in Arabasta? Whatever made you come here of all places?"

"It's a strange situation," Sanji replied ironically, "Though your country is beautiful Princess, I miss my home very much and wish I could return every second of the day."

"Why don't you return? You said you were a servant right? Couldn't you find employment at your old home?"

"I am a liar, Highness," he said softly, not taking his eyes off the far off stars, "I am a slave, not a servant. My life is not my own."

"A slave!" The Princess exclaimed sharply and Sanji, turning, saw a frown appear on the woman's face, "That is—we do not allow the institution of slavery here in Arabasta, we consider ourselves a progressive country. Citizens of the country cannot be slaves—how are you a slave?"

Sanji told her briefly an account of events leading to his captivity, including his promise and his decision to live up to it. He told her everything except the last, final deal and the night that had followed it. That, he would take to the grave. Through it all he had felt no stirrings of hope at the Princess's statement for he knew that the chains of his word held him tighter than any steel shackles ever could.

Princess Vivi sat silently through his telling and only stopped him a few times. Once to exclaim bitterly about the ban that the Sexy Foxy—a known slave ship—had on selling humans at the Arabastian ports and another to ask from where he had come from. When he had finished the Princess as developed a wrinkle on her forehead.

"I could order the Royal Swordsman to let you free, and I am sure he would do so to please me, but…" she paused, "from what you tell me, it would do no good would you?"

"No it would not your Highness, but I thank you for the words just the same," he said, inclining his head in appreciation and gratitude.

"I am sorry for you Sanji," the Princess said softly, "I cannot imagine how it would be to be destined to not see your birth home for the rest of your life—and you did it all to save other slaves, fated to hard and laborious lives. You are a man above men, Sanji!" Her eyes were wondering, frightened even. And Sanji fancied he saw something glimmering deeply within the pupils. An idea brewing madly within the princess's mind, but it could have been just his imagination, or the reflection of the stars. But he would remember that mad glitter in the depths of her clear irises, would remember it when the streets were rife with talk about her disappearance.

He had no answer for the Princess's praise, though inside he was highly flattered and utterly charmed. He had always had weak knees and a fluttery heart when it concerned the other sex. Instead he raised one hand, palm up, in the universal gesture of resignation.

"I can offer you no proper form of consolation, good Sir," the Princess said, "There is nothing I can say or do that will let you return home or give you back your life, but please know that I am always here for you to talk with if ever you need a companion. That I can see to it that your life here in Arabasta is not one of desolation and pain. Though it would be useless to say it, the Royal Swordsman is not a bad man at all…"

Sanji stifled an immediate protest and instead listened silently to the Princess, who was, by now, speaking slowly and with obvious embarrassment.

"He is just a strong-willed man of fierce passions. No doubt you struck his fancy as a good way to practice sparring and he went ahead and did what he had to get his way." Vivi paused, "Zoro is very much like that—sometimes he reminds me of a very obstinate child who wants his way and puts up a fuss if he doesn't get it. He'll have spontaneous whims, and the more something is out of his reach, the more he wants it…" Vivi was clearly flustered by the end of her explanation and Sanji could even see the slight blush that made her cheeks darker in the moonlight.

_Ah, so that's how it is._

The explanation had been a little too long for a desire on the Princess's part to relieve his anxieties. He was no psychologist, but if the Princess had not been also speaking to herself in some way, then Sanji would have stayed thirty years as the same man's personal concubine instead of just one. He wasn't surprised, but he was only not surprised because he was disinterested.

Princess Vivi regained her composure rapidly, and she chuckled, "Ah, well, I do run on."

Sanji shook his head politely, but he changed the subject gently, "The Princess was kind enough to listen to my problems, may I have the honor of doing the same for you? Not only will it make you feel better, but I am interested. I haven't been here long, but no one's ever bothered to explain to me why everyone is so tense. I asked the Swordsman, but he wouldn't tell me."

"That's probably because he doesn't know himself," Princess Vivi chuckled again, "He's not an Arabasta native, not even born of the Grand Line. Though I'm sure he loves this country in some way, he has no special attachment to it as we do. He is just here because he is comfortable and well-fed. Someday when he has grown bored with the palace life, he will leave because that is the kind of man he is. Chaka and Pell—the Captains of the Royal Guard and Army—have been trying to involve him in the crisis, as he is a powerful man to have in battle, but he remains aloof. Not out of spite, but out of disinterest."

She trailed off and there was a pause, pregnant with apprehension. The Princess's smile had faded, and her words were a miscarriage of tears, "It has not rained for six years."

Sanji, who had been digesting the information about Zoro, missed it. He was like the man who reads every book pertaining to his disease. The devil you knew is preferable to the devil you don't. He only caught the last, tail-end words and he jerked his head up, "What?"

The Princess repeated it. Sanji's mouth opened slightly, aghast. Born on the sea, raised on the sea, a week had not gone by that the rain did not fall. He could not fathom six years without a single drop of rain falling from the open skies.

"Impossible!" He uttered, "It hasn't rained in this country for six years!"

She hesitated, "Once, in the evening, two years and four months ago, there was a slight drizzle. The people thought that the rain had returned at last. But it lasted two minutes. You could hear the sand sucking the water in, the entire land groaned. And five minutes later, you couldn't have guessed that it had rained." The Princess's eyes were wide and filled with pain.

"But how do the people survive—" Sanji was interrupted by the sudden _plinks_ on the rooftop tiles. It was a characteristic sound, a sound that he recognized instantly, a sound that is universal. As the drops increased in speed and a mist could be seen from the balcony window, Sanji turned to the Princess, confused. "It's raining."

The pain all but multiplied in the wide, unhappy eyes of the lady, "Yes. It usually does here. They call it the "King's Miracle." Sometimes I think that it is more a curse then a blessing."

"But it's raining! Isn't this what your country needs?" Sanji protested, stupefied. He even got up and hastened to the balcony, sticking his hand out over the edge to reaffirm that the cool drops that were wetting his palm was indeed, raining.

"Yes, it is raining," the Princess agreed, not getting up, "The rain always falls on Alubarna, the capital of the King. Not frequently, but enough so that the land prospers. But the rest of Arabasta is in perpetual drought. There is countless bitterness about the rain that falls here and only here, there are rumors, horrible, untrue rumors that we—" Her small hands clutched viciously at her robes, _"that we are stealing the rain!" _

"Stealing the rain?" Sanji repeated, amazed, "How the hell would you do that?"

The Princess looked confused, "Oh, do you not know about dance powder?"

He shook his head. Visions of dancing people filled his mind.

"Well, you probably wouldn't if you lived in a country where rain is plentiful. Dance Powder is a manufactured substance—it looks like green sugar—that, when burned, releases fumes into the atmosphere which concentrate humidity so that it rains," the Princess explained.

"Sounds like it would save your country," he said shortly, knowing that there had to be a catch somewhere. He was right.

"It was banned by the World Government decades ago," she replied, "The Dance Powder concentrates humidity, so in effect it steals the humidity from other places and takes the rain for itself. We could burn tons of Dance Powder and so bring rain to Arabasta, but then no rain would fall on neighboring countries and they would suffer as we are suffering. Long ago, when it was first discovered, people thought that it was the answer to their prayers and they used it liberally. But soon, wars erupted between countries, between cities of the same country, between neighbors. It was too powerful and dangerous a tool and so it was banned."

Comprehension was dawning in his mind. It was enough so that he could forget, if only for a little while, the heat of the night. And for that, unconsciously, he was infinitely grateful. Sanji held up a finger, "People think that Alubarna is using Dance Powder to steal the rain!"

"No," the Royal said, smiling painfully, "The "King's Miracle" used to bring rain to all of Alubarna, but lately, for the last six years, only a few months after the drought had been recognized, it only rained on the King's palace. This rain," the Princess held out a hand to indicate the falling drizzle, "is only falling on the palace."

"So it makes it even worse," Sanji finished.

"The people have become desperate. They have begun to arm themselves. There are rumbles of unrest, of anger, of civil war. The King, my father, is upset and worried. He would never harm his beloved country and he cannot find a way to placate the people or to bring rain to them. But it is no one's fault," she cried suddenly, "Whose fault is it that there is no rain? That is what God and Nature have willed, yet they wish to war!"

She elapsed and was silent. Sanji didn't know what to say so he too remained voiceless. The night ticked by and the rain petered out. He tried to listen to the land groan after the shower, before realizing that it probably wouldn't groan because it had probably rained recently. The "King's Miracle."

At last the Princess got up and Sanji started, "You're going?" he asked. Though he had only met the Princess once before and a brief meeting at that, he felt a great tranquility and compassion in her presence. Her innocence and goodness of heart soothed his wounds and calmed him. He held out a hand to the lady, before he remembered himself and drew back.

"You're sweet," Princess Vivi said, "I can't believe I haven't bored you—you're a foreigner and probably have no interest in this country's inner affairs…but thank you for listening. It was a relief to talk about it…and you taught me much."

"I did nothing," Sanji said, charmed and humbled at the modesty and gentleness of the Royal lady. "On the contrary, thank you for being kind enough to sit here with me, even if you are a Princess and I am a slave—"

"You aren't a slave…not the way others are," the princess said absentmindedly, "But I'm glad you found me here." She reached out, found his hand, and pressed it warmly, "Nevermind the 'princess', call me Vivi. I hope you'll come and see me soon. I have to return to my chambers or else Igaram is going to wake half the palace asking for me." She giggled. It was only then that Sanji realized that she was young, still a girl, really.

Sanji raised the soft hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. "Good night Princess Vivi...Vivi. May you rest well."

"Good night Sanji." And a whisper of cotton and silk across the stone floors later, he was alone.

~0~

The thought of seeing _him_ again had him strangely disoriented. He waited with a rare sort of disconnected dread for the next night of debauchery. But the days and the nights alike passed and Sanji saw neither hide nor hair of the green-haired swordsman. Roronoa Zoro. He was thankful, but suspicious. Wary beyond belief wondering what devilry the bastard was coming up with. If he had bothered to ask Nami or any of the court ladies or gentlemen, Sanji would have discovered that Zoro had ridden off with Chaka and a regiment of palace soldiers to scout the civil stirrings of unrest in the oasis city of Yuba, across the Sandora River and a good day journey's ride away.

But Sanji did not bother divining the whereabouts of his master, in fact, the idea did not so much as enter his head. If he had cared to ask, he might have discovered that there was a general sense of joy that Zoro had taken it into his head to accompany the Royal Guards for up until then the Royal Swordsman had not exhibited any interest in the fate of the country. His choice to ride with the soldiers and the Captain was taken by all to be a promise to participate in the country's affairs. The Court was surprised, but grateful, for they had not expected that Zoro would aid in the brewing crisis.

Sanji would not have been surprised at Zoro's sudden participation in something which clearly did not interest him in the least. In fact, he probably was more knowledgeable in this matter than the Court. The Royal Swordsman had not gone riding to get to somewhere, he had gone to get away from something. Someone.

But all Sanji knew was that the Swordsman was not here and so he passed his days freely—for it seemed that he was Zoro's personal slave and wasn't expected to follow any other orders than his master's specific ones—but uneasily. He spent most of his time in the kitchens, chatting with Terracotta, the chef, and the younger cooks. He also spent time with the Head Servant, Usopp.

It was with Usopp, one noon, out in one of the palace's many courtyards, laying in the grass under a palm tree, that Sanji found out that—after a week's absence—his master was slated to return that evening. Usopp had been complaining of his relationship with Nami, the orange-haired court lady and had mentioned it offhandedly.

Sanji got up, surprised, "He's coming back?"

"Yeah. Chaka sent message by den-den mushi that they would be back by early evening, that they've already begun traveling. The Palace is in a small commotion." Usopp fanned himself lazily, "Chaka didn't give good or bad news…but we can still hope, eh?"

"Chaka? What? Why? What happened?"

The longnose gave him a look, "Where have you been?" And quickly explained Zoro's absence.

Sanji digested the news. His conversation with the Princess replaying through his head. For some reason, the news that the King had deemed the situation serious enough to send a patrol to investigate moved him more strongly than the news that the man who had fucked him was returning. But his heart did lurch in an unpleasant, violent way and his hands curled into fists of their own accord.

"I was wondering why Terracotta was already cooking for the evening," Sanji said, musing.

"They're throwing a banquet for the soldiers," Usopp said shrugging and fluffing his afro up, "For their efforts. It's also been a year since the late Queen died, so they're also wanting to honor the day. All the court ladies and gentlemen are invited. Basically anyone who dresses nicely and doesn't cause a commotion." He puffed up, "I, as head servant, have been specifically invited."

"And me?" Sanji asked, amused.

Usopp suddenly turned white and leaped up, "Argh! I completely forgot!"

"What? What?" Sanji said, alarmed.

The longnose clapped a hand to his forehead, "Zoro told me to clean you up and dress you nicely for it."

"He told you that I'm going?" Sanji repeated, bemused. "What if I don't want to go?"

"Oh, no you have to go," Usopp said, wringing his hands, "I almost forgot completely! C'mon! I have to freshen you up!"

Sanji got up slowly, "We still have all day—"

But Usopp grabbed his hand and yanked him along. They ended up showering together in one of the large bathrooms that housed several stone faucets over clean slate. It was exactly the shower room that Sanji had used to rinse the blood of his captors away when he had first arrived in this land. He became silent when he realized this and let Usopp chatter away. They toweled themselves dry inside and Usopp led him to his own room. It was a medium-sized room with a small balcony and large windows that let in the light. A small bed was stuck in the corner and the rest of the space was crowded with bureaus and nick-knacks. A small platform in another corner was surrounded by open and overfilling toolboxes. A cord sectioned off the platform and a small sign declared it to be "Usopp's Workshop."

"You tinker around a lot?" Sanji asked, walking slowly around the room.

"Just weapons and knick-knacks," Usopp laughed picking up something which looked like a pair of shoes mating with an octopus, "These are what I call Octo-shoes. They're used for climbing up walls and steep sides. I took the sucker-power of the Octopus and its ability to attach to anything and mixed it with human apparel to create them!"

Sanji waved away the "Octo-shoes" when Usopp offered them to him with a smile, "Do you want to be an inventor or something?"

"Nah, I just like to make things that help me out. When I leave this place, I'm going to join a pirate ship and become a feared man on the high seas," Usopp put down the OctoShoes.

"You're planning on leaving then?" Sanji asked, surprised. "I thought you weren't allowed to."

"I'm not a slave anymore. I'm Head Servant," Usopp reminded him proudly, "Zoro gave me my freedom almost as soon as he bought me but I decided to stay here to gain a little money and to train myself."

"When are you planning on leaving?"

"I don't know. Maybe when I'm sure that this country isn't going to explode into civil war," Usopp said, shrugging. "I have a lot of friends here now—I want to be here to fight if Arabasta needs me." He blushed suddenly, "I want to see too if Nami wants to come with me when I leave. I know that Zoro will."

"He wants to leave?"

"He's been thinking of it," Usopp laughed, "He's the kind of guy that doesn't stay in one place for a long time if he can help it. I've been talking to him about life on the seas—you know, under the flag of the Jolly Roger. He seems to like the idea, though he hasn't said so explicitly. But lately, I think that he's waiting, like me. To make sure that Arabasta is fine before he wipes its dust off his boots. C'mon, put this on."

Usopp tossed him a clean, linen swab and Sanji removed his towel and wrapped it around his waist. "Am I just going to wear this to the banquet? I thought it was supposed to be formal dress."

"No, that's just for now," the longnose said and motioned for him to sit on a stool, "I'm going to cut your hair and shave you."

"I can do it myself—"

"Let the Great "Me" do it."

Sanji settled himself on the stool and let Usopp comb his wet hair and run his hands through the blond tresses to straighten them. It felt oddly good—like a massage. He closed his eyes and relished the probing fingers. After a few minutes, Usopp produced a pair of steel scissors and snipped his hair to a respectable length. And using shaving cream, trimmed his blond scruff.

"Ah, what a difference!" Usopp exclaimed proudly, holding up a mirror.

Sanji felt his eyes widen as he stared at his reflection. He looked…handsome. Just as he had when he freshened up for a party when he lived at the Baratie. His hair was wet, but well cut. He was cleanshaven. He traced his palm up his smooth cheek.

Usopp was already rummaging through a wardrobe and before Sanji could say anything, the longnose had tossed him a long, linen skirt, elegantly decorated with the Royal Seal. "Put that around your waist. And _this_ around your neck." He held up a collar shaped in a crescent and made of sheet metal, decorated with tarnished brass and silver engravings. Usopp scurried over and slung it gently around Sanji's chest and hooked it together in the back and stepped back. [1]

"You look great!" Usopp exclaimed happily, putting one hand on his hip and gave him a thumbs up, "That's my clothes you know! It's a little long for me though."

Sanji didn't answer, suddenly struck with a shameful thought. That Usopp probably wasn't going to be the only one that thought he looked especially handsome that night. Was this Roronoa Zoro's way of preparing his meat? Instead of salting it and spicing it, he washed it and made it pretty for the night's consumption. Was he going to spend another night like that other one? Would he be able to survive it? He suddenly felt slightly sick.

~0~

The regiment passed the Southern Gate of Alubarna at around seven o'clock of the evening. The riders rode tiredly through the streets on their stallions, their dusty cloaks and dirt-grimed faces demonstrating their hard ride. The people of Alubarna lined the streets and cheered their return, though those were few in number who actually understood why they had been out in the first place.

The banquet began an hour and a half later, as soon as the soldiers had bathed and rested for a while. The feast was to be in one of the large dining halls, where there were around fifteen large stone tables, able to seat up to fifty people. Within two hours of the soldiers' return, the room was bustling with activity. Servants swarmed around the tables, taking and leaving dishes and snatching food whenever they could. The soldiers were seated at the principal table, in the middle of the room with the King at the head. The Princess sat on his right side and the Captain of the Royal Guard on his right. Chaka looked rested, but restless. Every time the king turned to him, the Captain would talk softly and heatedly in undertones. But the rest of the table was in an amiable mood, the talk was light and joyous, the laughter frequent.

The King had stood up from his place and rung a small gong once the diners were seated and in a loud and strong voice which carried well, addressed the room, "Today is a good day for our beloved country of Arabasta! It is heartening to see that the Royal Guard performs its tasks with such determination, excellence, and love—all for the benefit of the Land! As long as there is this kind of love within the hearts of the people, Arabasta will survive drought, war, or pestilence. This is the best thing to have happened to honor the late Queen's passing. I thank you all for your patience and determination as well as your courage. Eat, and be merry." The King spread his hands wide in blessing and sat down to applause.

Sanji had dined with Usopp and Nami and with several other of the Court whom he had become acquainted with since his arrival. He ate normally, if a bit quietly. He had seen Zoro when he had entered with the rest of the regiment, dressed and bathed and smiling thinly at the large round of applause that the room had given them when they had walked in. But he doubted that Zoro had seen him, and the other hadn't even been deigning to glance around the room as if he were looking for someone. The man had just walked in, sat down, and had commenced to eat his dinner with no embellishments. He sat next to Chaka and at times chipped in a word or two into the conversation between Chaka and the King—but only when he was asked to, and then not always. From what Sanji observed, he didn't so much as glance at the Princess Vivi.

His meal was quiet. Nami was poking fun at Usopp the entire meal and Usopp would at turns be docile and others, indignant. Though it was amusing to listen to, Sanji couldn't concentrate on their conversation and kept on watching the main table where the King, Chaka, Princess Vivi, Pell, and Zoro were sitting. He had not been disturbed when he had heard that Zoro was returning, but now, that he was seeing the man himself in the flesh, knowing without a shred of doubt that those brown hands would be wrapped around his body before the night was out was causing him to nearly tremble inside. He tried not to think about it, but there is no ignoring the SeaKing in the room. He upset his glass of red wine twice and spilled his soup bowl once.

He got up and headed off in the direction of the kitchens to see if he could find something a trifle stronger than the glass of red wine he was sipping. He passed through a short room, framed with arches, when he heard _his _voice, right behind him.

"_Hey!" _

He turned quickly and nearly slammed into Zoro. Sanji threw up his hands and Zoro turned his head as if to avoid a blow. Sanji's heart lurched in apprehension and he felt his scrotum crawl in upon itself. He swallowed.

"You're back."

Zoro smiled, "I didn't think you'd notice I was gone."

Sanji didn't say anything.

"You look nice. Usopp surpassed himself." Servants were bustling all around them and Zoro motioned him to one side. "Have you been enjoying yourself?"

"The food is good," he said. He didn't look away, though it was killing him to look into those eyes and see the appreciation in them.

"Been keeping yourself busy while I've been gone?" The man's voice was eager, and his eyes were searching, as if he were looking for something that only he could understand.

"Not really," he paused, "I'm going to go get something from the kitchen. Are we finished here?" He really didn't care that he was being impudent. The man had said nothing about being docile in their little agreement. And Sanji, as he uttered the tart words, felt an exhilarating surge of adrenaline run through his veins. His eyes all but flashed and a sly, little smile slipped onto his lips.

"Not quite," Zoro said, and he answered the smile with one of his own, "but—I can't say it aloud—c'mere."

Sanji gave a small snarl as Zoro snatched the metal collar around his neck and yanked it close, and drew his shoulder up as Zoro whispered into his ear, the words were rapid, harsh even, excited, and oddly embarrassed, _"Come to my room. After the banquet. After you've rested. You don't need to bring a quilt, I'll provide." _

Zoro nearly flung him back and Sanji wobbled, dizzy at the blatant order. At the audacity of the man himself.

Zoro seized him again, stabilized him, and grinned, "But only if you want to come."

And walked away, scratching at the back of his head.

_But only if you want to come. _

He drifted to the kitchen, and was so absorbed with what had just happened that he forget that he had gone to the kitchen to find some rum, and not to refill his soup bowl, which is what he did. The trip back to his seat next to Nami was dreamy, as if he was walking in a dream.

_But only if you want to come. _

Sanji nearly broke the thick soup bone in his teeth as he ran the words through his mind again. What the _hell_ was that supposed to mean? Was that an order disguised as a joke? Was it a taunt? The other's way of goading him, knowing that he had no choice? The banquet rolled on, as festive as before. But if Sanji had been quiet before, he was downright sullen now. His brow was furrowed, pensive, heavy with trying to figure out the meaning behind those seven words.

By the end of the banquet, as more and more people were excusing themselves and slipping from the large room, they had exchanged no more words, had not exchanged so much as another glance. Sanji pushed his bowl to the middle of the table and signaled to a servant that he was finished. He didn't look around as he left the large chamber, not wanting to catch Zoro's eye.

He wandered to his room, mind in a flurry. Because he could have sworn that the words had been tender, joking, intimate, amused beyond words. As if the man were enjoying the taunt more than the…results. His mind cringed as he thought it.

_But only if you want to come. My room. After the banquet. Only if you want to come. _

~0~

"You came." The words were soft, almost wondering, eager. Sanji closed the door slowly behind him and turned to face the man. It was full dark by then, the banquet had been done hours before, and the only light there was came from the candles in large glass bell jars that flickered from every corner of the room and cast over it a spell of orange-yellow light. Zoro was sitting on the sofa, feet up on a cushion, and his head was facing straight ahead, at a large tapestry on the wall opposite. He didn't turn even when Sanji shut the door behind him and stepped forward.

"Why did you come?" The question was soft, velvety. It wasn't taunting or goading, there was none of the suppressed mirth of the evening; it was simply curious. Oddly gentle.

"You ordered me to," he answered. "I gave you my word. And I'm going to keep it."

"I said _only if you wanted to._ If you hadn't come, I wouldn't have considered your word broken. I wouldn't have done anything."

"I don't believe you," Sanji said softly.

Zoro grunted. An amused sound, "I'd have probably gone looking for you."

He didn't say anything.

Zoro straightened up and turned to him, "I don't believe you Sanji. Why don't you tell me why you came here?"

Sanji's eyes narrowed and his teeth flashed out in a smile, devoid of all mirth, he fell into the pseudo-rehearsed speech he had broiled in his mind on the walk there, "I'm not afraid of you. Last time—last time, I didn't, I couldn't handle it. But, you'll see—I'm going to make you work for it. Just try me. I'm not going to hide or run from you—You want me and I don't want you so I'm the one that holds the whip." He was aware of the hot blood in his cheeks, but didn't care. He had said what he had felt and Zoro could do nothing about it. He could see Zoro thinking about what he had just said. His heart was pounding, excited and ready for a struggle.

He opened his mouth again and said softly, so soft that his heart screamed in injustice, the beating almost louder than his words, "This is another fight isn't it?"

The other man smiled, and Sanji saw true admiration in the satisfactory curve of his lips. It was so out of place that he had trouble recognizing it.

"You do know that you still have to obey my every order?" Zoro finally said smoothly, "_I_ will always hold the whip hand when it comes to things between me and you." He smiled suddenly, "But the fact that you think you hold it—it fits you. But that's not what I wanted to tell you." He paused and motioned Sanji over, suddenly becoming serious. "I have apologized only a few times in my life, and I'm not used to doing it but I am sorry for the way I treated you that night."

Sanji tensed. He had moved to the couch's side and was only two feet away from Zoro.

Zoro's face was grim, "I treated you as if you were used to such…affairs when I should have at the very least treated you gently. I'm sorry." His hand made a strange gesture of apology.

"Like fuck you're sorry," he said coldly.

"You don't have to believe me," Zoro answered and got up slowly. Sanji murdered an urge to step back and Zoro took his hand and raised it to his lips, pressing his lips to the soft belly of his wrist were the pulse was surging. "I don't think you can." He pulled Sanji gently to the carpet in front of the couch and unfastened the metal plated collar from off his neck, tossing it onto a nearby table. Sanji felt his body stiffen and relax, stiffen and relax, and his mind began to clamor again, fast beginning to shriek. He knew what he had come for, goddamnit!

Zoro stopped and looked into his wide eyes."Your damn pupils look dilated." He paused, eyes amused and resigned. And then unfastened a dark green bandana from around his thick bicep and though Sanji craned his head away, Zoro slipped it around his eyes and tied it securely in the back. There was a short struggle, but Sanji let the cloth claim him in the end.

"What—"

"It'll calm you down. Shh." And Sanji felt his linen skirt suddenly shift as the knot at the side was dissolved. His hands were seized in a good grip.

"You're not going to tie me?"

"If you see, you freak out. If you feel me, you try to stop it. I'll just stop you from resisting."

"_But don't tie me!"_

"I thought chefs weren't supposed to fight with their hands Sanji."

He hadn't thought it would be like this.

He spluttered wordlessly, teeth grinding in the dark, as he felt the cloth tie almost painfully around his wrists at the small of his back. There was only that white wrap around his waist that saved him from nudity. His muscles were tense, so tense.

The warm fingers ghosted over his stomach and the shiver of cloth across him as the white wrap slipped from his pelvis and he felt the cold air hit his organs and he shivered.

He felt Zoro behind him, and was confirmed when he felt the other's lips tickling his ear as he spoke softly, in a husky whisper, "I know you think that I just want to fuck you and leave you in the bed like I didn't care…" Lips tickled the sensitive place where shoulder met neck and kissed it tenderly, "but it's not what you think. I can worship your body because…"

Sanji's stomach coiled tight as he felt the kisses trail down his back, slowly. The lips determined to touch each square inch of his skin. The muscles strained against his binds, the place where the cloth rubbed against his skin began to ache and then to weep. His legs were as frozen as marble pillars. If he moved so much as an inch then he wouldn't be able to help lashing out with one foot and attempting to break bone. So he stood still, stood still, stood still, and refused to whimper or cry out or do what he had done the last time. This was why he had come—to show the other man the steel will of his spirit. He wanted to show him how his body didn't tremble at the other's touch. He had come because he wanted to know he had walked with his own free will to the amphitheater. He had placed his head with pride in the worn wood saddle of the guillotine.

And he would not tremble, he would not let his body shake.

_But oh how it wanted to! _

Because the kisses were slow and hot down his back; the dripping of honey; the warmth of the lips tracing the hollow of his back. All he could feel were those lips, the rasp of a shaved jaw at times and he gave a small grimace when he felt the kisses begin to trail down his soft curves. Hands caressed his sides and hips and he felt the kisses that the other gave him on the tips of his fingers of his bound hands. Hands fondled his stomach and chest, and then he felt the wet heat of tongue on his back shoulderblades and it almost undid him. Every touch was multiplied in the soft darkness that enveloped him heavily. Hands reached around and caressed his nipples and a mouth descended on his neck and sucked gently at his skin. But he did not cringe, he did not cringe.

Fingers pinched the buds of his chest softly, tugging gently at the nipple. There was nothing rough in his handling at all, it was nothing at all like the last night in which his sex had been plundered in the rough neediness of lust. This was the gentle love-making of an enamored lover. But it was just as repulsive to him, and perhaps worse. But his body was primal, though his heart was bloated with anger and defiance, his spine wanted to shiver and arch though he did not so much as let it move one centimeter. The hands rippled down his muscled torso to cross at his crotch. Fingers caressed the juncture between his pubis and his penis. Sanji felt his stomach give a slow flip-flop.

_He is just a strong-willed man of fierce passions. _

He heard the voice of Princess Vivi say sweetly, echoing in his murky mind.

~0~

He couldn't kiss the smooth, tight, and muscled flesh enough. As soon his lips lifted from the body, they were thirsty again for the sweet salty flavor, the musk. He was enraptured, captivated by the curves, the lines, the planes of the battle-toughened body which stood before him nude. He had never been so ignited with lust as he was when he kissed the part where the lower back lost its innocence. Everywhere, he sent his lips, his hands, his tongue; mapping the man's body with his senses. He would have kissed the man's shadow, so captivated was he.

Zoro closed his eyes briefly as he sent his wandering hands lower and grasped the unexcited length of Sanji's manhood. There was a soft grunt and a small twist of the shoulders but that was all. Zoro brought his lips to the blond's ear and whispered words, words that he wouldn't be caught dead saying but which he needed to tell the man so Sanji would hopefully believe that he did admire and respect him and honor him even, but that he couldn't help kissing him like this, touching him like this. That he had damned himself for entirety in order to place his lips on this forbidden skin; he had entered hell willingly all for the chance of slipping his tongue across the tight bud of the blond's nipple and sucking it in worship.

He applied pressure on the shaft, his strokes slow and luxurious, the palm caressing tightly the hardening penis. H squeezed and pulled it slowly, making the caresses unendurable, excruciatingly on the edge, so slow it hurts and the body screams in exhilaration, screams and screams, finding glory in the cries of pleasure beyond all coherence. Zoro could feel the man's body tense to the tightness of sprung coil and he almost squeezed tight the hardening organ in his hand, imagining in only too much detail the sensations sliding into that tight and ready body would produce. He stilled himself and concentrated on kissing, licking, sucking the flesh of the neck stretched out before him. He was determined to get a groan, eager to hear a sigh of pleasure, a moan of concealed delight.

Nothing. Silence. He increased the speed, the palm of his hand squeezing tightly, rapidly across the erection. He could have been jacking off a mannequin. His only award was the light, rapid breathing—the almost shuddering of the body which was on the edge. The rock-hard muscles slid with sweat, musky.

He couldn't even remember how he ended up kneeling in front of the blond, dragging a slow tongue across the line of his lower belly, one hand curled around the man's hip. But there he was, his mind in a fog, wrapped in something that was dark and smoky.

The erection he managed to extract from the blond slave was satisfying, a pleasure to palm and stroke. The stiff skin, heated to the touch, filled his mouth nicely and he sucked gently and tightly. Zoro sucked the saliva in and ran his tongue on the underside and he swore he heard a low, reluctant moan from somewhere around him. He almost stopped his oral pleasuring so that he could poke fun at the cook for his slip, but he didn't.

Tonight was a night of admiration, of pure desire. He wondered what Sanji would say to know that he hadn't gotten down on his knees and pleasured another man like this in a long time. He had always been catered to, pampered by the men in his bed. They had all recognized the esteem of his title and sought to please him in the way he was loving Sanji now. Any of his past lovers would have had difficulty time recognizing him in such a position.

But he wanted to coax Sanji into the sex, wanted to pleasure his body to the point that it began to long for thee touches and kisses. Wanted to fuck him with the other's arms stoking his back. Wanted the kisses to be enthusiastic, filled with passion.

Dead, crippled wishes.

Zoro sucked at the heavy sack and grasped it in a caressing grip. This time there _was_ a moan. Stifled and embarrassed, but the sweat had broken out nicely on Sanji's body. It betrayed him.

The weighty desire in him began to rush and roar. If he wanted to pull off then he would have to do it now, before he couldn't stop himself. There already was a large, throbbing tent pushing his sweatpants up.

Zoro kissed the belly softly for one last time and dragged himself up, nearly stumbling. His hands flew to the bonds and untied the green bandana, letting loose the man's bound hands. With a sudden, ripping motion, Zoro slid the other bandana from Sanji's eyes.

They stared at each other with drunken gazes.

"You can—you can go now, go," Zoro gestured jerkily to the door and turned away, "We're finished."

He didn't turn around until he heard the door shut and then his hands were scrambling for his zipper.

~0~


	6. Flight At Dawn

Chapter 6

Flight at Dawn

With a tear of faith over your skin,

I forgot the wound that your love left me

But that Taurus instinct of your being,

Forced me to whip you, tenderly

Without pain you are not happy,

Without pain you are not happy,

Without love, you do not suffer anymore.

That night you provoked and saw in me,

What to no one I have shown in intimacy.

But that expression that you have inside,

Forced me to kill you, slowly.

-"El Duelo", La Ley

~0~

Time had stretched wide and had dilated within that smoky room for Sanji; it had curved and warped, bubbled into an entity he did not understand. Thus, when he swept the door shut behind him and trudged off, he had absolutely no notion of how long he had spent inside the room of his master. The only light in the stone hallways of this wing of the castle came from the flickering torches in the brass brackets embedded in the walls. Even the stars had abandoned him.

Sleep was impossible at first, his arousal was disturbing, embarrassing. He did not care to take care of it, but let his body slacken by itself. And still, sleep only came sheepishly. He dozed and woke, dozed and woke; mind working ceaselessly at nothing. Mindlessly running like a rat in an exercise wheel: frantic, desperate, lunges which ended nowhere but where they had first started.

He gave up by the time he had woken up three times and kicked the covers off in frustration. The small window of his room let in black night, nothing more. Three of the clock, perhaps four. But sleep had evaded him this night, it had taken sick leave. Sanji sat up and shrugged into a thick linen robe commonly used in the country for the frigid desert nights. He pulled open a drawer in his dresser and reached in for a small bag of rolled cigarettes that he had managed to buy a few days ago. The smell of smoke was comforting in the chill. He glanced out the window and paced a few circles in his room, just smoking. The red, glowing tip of his home-rolled bobbed up and down slightly as he chewed the other end: a habit he had long since outgrown.

He had lost count of the circles he had completed when he found himself staring intently at the door. It wasn't a conscious decision—all of a sudden he was staring at the door, eyes narrowed harshly, with the feeling that he had been staring at it for a while. He reached out and then drew back, but then, growing fearless he placed a hand on the doorknob but still…hesitated! His muscles tensed, but he gave a small snarl and then twisted and pushed it open, his soul brimming with trepidation and defiance. But a walk in the cold air might refresh him, clear his thoughts and banish the mist in his mind. Perhaps he would even find the Princess, insomniac as well with concerns for her country and people, pacing the corridors or sitting on a stone bench out in the starlight. He had enjoyed her sweet presence; it was a soothing balm which enveloped his sore heart and made him almost happy again.

As he walked the night away, the early morning seemed a dream, an illusion. The stone walls, often covered in ancient hieroglyphics and painted frescos were alien to him—a man born and reared in the swaying walls of a ship. He crossed plazas and walked through narrow hallways framed with curved arches, wanting to disorient himself but he couldn't. He had been here long enough to begin to recognize the halls, the doors, the balconies. The thought was frightening.

Sanji had passed enough people on his path, not many, usually palace courtiers hurrying from one place to another or servants finishing up a task while the palace slept, so that when he heard the voices he was not surprised. He continued walking down the particular hallway he was on, a hallway which eventually opened up into a small, circular room filled with armchairs and sofas and bookcases lining the walls. He had an idea that he might be able to find sleep ensconced within the plush confines of a chair, with the clear light of the stars and moon lighting up the entire room.

It was when he heard the loud, frustrated growl, "Goddamn it Vivi…!" that he froze at the very entrance to the little library, surprised. The large door was propped ajar, enough so that he only needed to nudge it open a little in order to stick his head tentatively in.

The room was small and he saw the two figures immediately, standing near a bookshelf at the far side of the room. It was dark and he could only see that the figure facing the door was wrapped and cloaked and carried a large bundle on its back. As he watched, the cloaked figure made a silencing gesture to the other figure with its back to the door and whispered something furiously.

_"Be quiet! You'll wake the entire palace—" _

"And I goddamn will if I have to! This is beyond foolish—"

"_It is not foolish! You don't understand anything!" _

"I might not Princess, but I know a deliberate plunge into outright failure when I see it!"

"No! Failure is if I stay here, like a scared child, unable to do anything to save my country!"

"_Don't be ridiculous Vivi!"_ The man with his back to Sanji snapped out, "There's nothing you can do at this point without military force; you'll end up being captured and killed—worse, held for ransom. You're the princess, the sole daughter of King Cobra, act your age and understand your responsibility! This isn't some child's game—do you really think you'll achieve anything climbing like a bandit out of a library window? Do—"

"Silence!" The other shadowy figure cried out, voice almost wavering before growing strong again. One hand reached up and pulled down the hood that had so far obscured the speaker's face and Sanji saw the moonlight light up the face of the Princess Vivi, beautiful. He saw the fire in her eyes, the strength of her spirit, it was almost enough that he drew back, awed. "You don't know anything about this country. Or anything about me or the rebel army—you wouldn't understand if I told you that I could maybe turn back this tide if I talked to Koh—to the leader of the rebel army! There's nothing I can do here anymore, it's better to leave politics in the hands of those more experienced than I—my father. I can do more outside these palace walls. _I know it._"

She turned with a whirl of cloak and with both hands threw open the large library window; the rush of cold air rippled Sanji's hair and made him shiver. The Princess stooped and picked up a large bundle off the ground and with a grunt, threw it out the window. Sanji saw it for a split second, unraveling, before gravity overtook it and it plunged down, no doubt unraveling rapidly as it fell; the rope that would provide the Princess a means of escape.

Vivi hooded her face again and turned towards the window and the man beside her reached out his hand, "Vivi…don't do this."

The princess tugged on the end of the rope which was tied to a large, thick cement vase at the edge of the window. It didn't budge. She glanced up once and shook her head, "Don't ask me that Zoro."

_Zoro?! _

He almost bit the cigar in half. What was that man _doing_ here? Who was _he_ to speak to the Princess in such a way? What the hell was he watching? What kind of scene was this? It was already confusing in of itself, but Zoro had no place in it. It seemed that every day the man who had bought him became more and more of an enigma.

Zoro didn't say anything, his figure was still as Vivi grasped the thick rope in her hands and hefted it. She hesitated, looking at Zoro.

"Zoro, if…I don't see you again—"

"Don't give me that ridiculous heap of camel shit Vivi. If you're courageous enough to sneak out of this palace, leave behind your life as a Princess, and throw yourself eagerly into this idiocy—you're courageous enough to make it back."

Sanji sensed the smile in her words, "Thank you Zoro—does this mean I can trust you won't-?"

Zoro chuckled, his broad shoulders moving in laughter. The hand he had held out to Vivi had long since returned to his sides, "Go. You'll have until that curly-haired guy that's always watching over you finds out you're not sleeping soundly in your bed."

"Thank you Zoro. I will come back alive. I swear it." Vivi said. And though her words were soft, they were adamant, made of iron and steel.

"Go, Princess," Zoro answered, "Before they find out."

Vivi paused, then nodded fiercely, and with a whirl of black cape she had leaped up onto the window shelf. She crouched there, and then, grasping the thick rope she paused again and seemed to be about to say more, but then she leaped nimbly off and vanished. The dark of her cloak was such that it appeared to Sanji that she had leapt off and vanished as soon as her feet had left the ledge.

Zoro made a move as to go to the window, but then stilled. Sanji was conscious of his very breath as Zoro just stood there, staring at the open window with the blowing drapes in the wind fluttering. The full moon could be seen in the frame of the window and the silhouette of his master was dark against the bright orb. He felt as if he had stared forever at the dark outline, would stare forever; Zoro did not move.

Sanji shook his head slightly and began to cautiously step back. One step, two, three—his bare feet on the cool stone floor were noiseless. And then, it must have been a stray breeze which went further than its brothers-the partially open door slammed shut. It surprised Sanji and he jumped, his heart jack-hammering hard. And before he knew it he had knocked into a cast-iron plant stand placed decoratively and unfortunately against the wall. He flailed, as if in slow-motion, to stabilize the thing, but the crash of the large pot was momentous in the stillness of the night.

The door to the library flung open and Sanji shrank back as his overloaded senses were assaulted once again. His foot got caught on the overturned plant stand and he felt his center of gravity shifting so fast he was helpless to control it. His ass hit the ground, but he didn't even notice the pain in his tail bone as he stared up nakedly at the man above him.

_"Who's there!?"_

It was so dark in the hallway that he could barely make out the features of Zoro's face or discern how he was feeling from the emotions expressed there. He didn't know what to say or do in the moment and loathed it intensely. Loathed the way his knees wanted to shake and how the hair on his arms stood up.

Something seemed to relax in the tight posture of the figure in front of him, "Oh, it's just you." Zoro sighed. He paused, staring at Sanji for a second longer. And then with a speed which startled Sanji, Zoro had reached out and yanked him up with a palpable anger. "_You say nothing about what you just saw—breathe a word and I'll kill you! Understand!?" _

Sanji, before he could even begin to think, felt his hands fly out and shove Zoro off of him, his words came out, faster and harder than he expected them to, "You don't have to threaten me to keep my mouth shut—any half-assed idiot who saw this, or who knows the princess, they would be able to know that discretion is needed—you don't have to tell me _shit. _I would drag you down if I could, but I wouldn't touch the Princess with dirty hands."

Zoro brushed his chest, as if brushing Sanji's touch off his body. Sanji's eyes burned as he wanted to cry out '_Not so happy about me touching you now are you?' _Zoro stepped back and half-turned towards the library, "You and women," he sneered, "This silly whim of yours annoys the fuck out of me. All you see is their long hair and full breasts and you fall down dead."

Fury leaped through his body and Sanji snapped, "Thank your God I have the chivalrous need to protect women. If I didn't then I wouldn't have begged you to save those slaves the day you bought me...and then you wouldn't have had me!"

"Look at her!" Zoro gestured fiercely at the still-open window, "Does she look like she needs someone striving to protect her and reminding her of how weak she is? She's a damn strong spirit, if not a total warrior! If you kept on bothering her about how she needs a man to keep her strong, she'd never realize how strong she really is!"

"A woman could be ten times stronger than me and I would still strive to save her the injustice of any injury," Sanji growled, staying still there. Now, after the jig was up and he had been discovered and the majority of his shock had faded, he felt his regular obstinacy returning full force, ready to serve Zoro up.

Zoro walked back into the dim-lit library and then half-turned, scoffing, "That might be your intention, but it's not what will come out."

Sanji's eyes narrowed, "So then why did you try to stop the Princess?"

The figure in front of him stilled and Sanji repressed a smirk. Zoro tersely said, "That's different."

"No it's not! I heard you! I heard you say that there wasn't anything she could do! And you have the _nerve_ to tell me that I'm destroying her will and you're there trying to stop whatever she's trying to do!" It wasn't until he said it that he realized the depth of his confusion which had been overshadowed by his preoccupation with Zoro's presence. He really had no clue as to what had just happened, as to why Vivi had decided to jump out a library window in the early hours of the day in which all was still dark and the country slept. Mystery abounded.

"_And I told you to never speak of what you saw! Not even to me!"_ Zoro snarled, "Do you want her courage and spirit to be in vain?! If _anyone_ realizes what happened here, they'd be after her in a heartbeat…If anyone hears what you say!"

"_Okay, Okay!"_ Sanji snapped back, "I don't even know what the hell's happening—I just walked in like a minute ago! I couldn't sleep and I just was walking—I didn't know you two were here!"

"Whatever, it's over, she's gone," Zoro said and stalked to the window and swept it shut. With the panes of glass closed, Sanji felt as if Vivi had disappeared for good and it heightened the tension between him and Zoro. He wanted to move, to turn his back and leave, but something held him there.

"Are you going to stand there 'til the sun comes up?" Zoro asked, amused. He turned back, his figure framed by the moonlit window. "Come here." He gestured. His voice had lost that edge, that cutting edge on which one could lose a limb. But it was deception personified. Sanji was not to be deceived.

He felt his pulse quicken and Sanji stayed, lingering in the dark doorway, "Why?"

"Are you disobeying me?" Zoro asked silkily.

"No, I'm just delaying your order," he retorted.

"Well in that case, come over here _right now._"

It was dark in the library, moonlight was not enough to make much of a difference. Sanji was struck by the memory of the dark velvet in which Zoro had thrust him into that same night. The darkness which had seduced and conquered him completely and left him exposed to the rough/smooth hands of his self-proclaimed master. He could still trace the reddish lines around his wrists which marked where Zoro had bound him so that he could not protest the exploit of his nakedness.

They were alone together again. Though it seemed near eons that he had stood in the middle of the carpet in Zoro's chambers and trembled inside as Zoro placed his hands on his unprepared body. It had been but mere hours ago.

"Why did you have trouble sleeping?" Zoro asked suddenly, softly.

Sanji nearly jumped at the unexpected question, the unexpected kindness. And then, _fury_. What stunning, incredible _audacity_ did this man have to ask such an absurdity. There had been a reason that he had tossed and turned in his small bed, a reason why he had paced and paced the small confines of his room and finally fled the cramped confines to wander the endless halls and passageways of the palace. It was the memories of the touches, the kisses, the traces of tongue that he had never experienced with such sensitivity before that night in which he had been robbed of sight and placed in that inscrutable blackness.

"Why were you walking around at this time? You should be sleeping." Zoro continued, "You shouldn't be wandering all over the palace at this time—you'll end up in trouble, like now."

"Am I in trouble…?" Sanji murmured, not really a question.

There was a pause, infinite in its potency. Sanji strained to read anything from the still form by the window, but the darkness reigned there—giving enough to tease with illuminated silhouettes but revealing nothing more than that.

Zoro chuckled. A warm, low, rich laugh. "You've been in trouble since you sold yourself to me, Sanji. Now come here."

Sanji stepped forward a foot, eyeing Zoro, slightly disturbed at the way the words sounded, there in the air, "What do you mean?"

"What do you think?" Zoro laughed, "You come from far away, chained up and bloody. And then right when you're in a position you can get away, you bind yourself here forever of your own volition for the sake of strangers. And you tie yourself to someone like me. _Come here._"

The way those last words were pronounced. The self-derision which was so apparent in that subtle condemnation and which clashed with the barked order. It was as if Zoro was mocking himself at the same time he mocked Sanji. It was the most self-exposed he had ever seen Zoro. _Zor_o, who never let go of that polished, unfathomable exterior and never expressed anything deeper than the most basic of emotions. It was one of the things he most despised of the other man—that he managed to retain his cold distance even while he fucked him. It was like he felt nothing—no shame, no guilt, _nothin_g.

Sanji took another step, his pulse quickening slightly, "Why do you say it like that?" He knew he should not be taking the steps into the room so quickly, that he shouldn't be taking them so quickly forward with so little resistance. But that emotional tremor in Zoro's voice—it intrigued him. A crack in the wall which had suddenly opened and might never open again.

"Isn't it obvious?" Zoro leaned casually on the arm of a nearby sofa, "Look at you—you're even afraid to be close to me—"

He took two more steps towards Zoro, his throat feeling dryer than the sand of the desert kingdom, "I don't—I don't understand." He couldn't help noticing that the words that they were trying to say were coming out half-baked, tense, sounding coarse and unrefined.

"That makes two of us," Zoro chuckled, "Take it how you will, I'm done talking." The last bit was predatory in tone, and Sanji's stomach suddenly tightened as he realized how close he was to Zoro. He had wandered right into the lion's den.

Zoro straightened, seeming to uncoil like a snake from its curled position, and sauntered a step towards him. Sanji restrained the urge to take a complementary step backwards, to counterpoint. Zoro circled him hungrily, dangerously slow. Sanji's hackles stood up straight as he lost sight of Zoro and he turned his head to follow the other's progress.

He jumped as a body suddenly slammed into him from behind and his head was thrust forward. Hands slithered across his naked stomach and chest, lingering and pressing and caressing. Sanji instinctively flew up and attempted to pry them off his body, heart trip-hammering at the assault. Dread rose up through his body, seeming to float out of the pores of his heated skin. Suddenly, the feeling that he had been stupid to believe that Zoro would open himself so easily and give away the answers so casually to his slave overwhelmed him and he felt beyond wretched.

The realization sapped the strength from his hands and he dropped them from Zoro's hands to his sides.

"You're learning." The deep, husky voice right behind his ear purred. The exploring hands brushed over his nipples lightly, flicking the nubs until Sanji felt them harden and tingle. A wet tongue brushed up behind his left ear and he shivered as a warm mouth latched onto the sensitive skin and sucked eagerly.

Sanji closed his eyes and muttered, "No, no I'm not." He wanted to drift off and escape to another dimension as Zoro untied the white linen skirt around his hips and let it drop, hands drifting over every inch of exposed skin. He was getting tiredly used to being deprived of his garments around this man, his body has ceased to be his own and now was the property of his master.

The hands on him turned him around and Sanji opened his eyes even though his mind screamed to keep them closed. Zoro's features, stark in the colorless moonlight, were hungry, lustful, unashamed. Brutal in their naked need. But there was a soft edge to that otherwise intent gaze, a wistfulness which was so out of place and so exotic in that hard, piratical face that it stood out. It was the look of a man who watches the show go on through a tinted window, _a longin_g.

It was this expression of quiet longing that wasn't ever going to be sated by the eventual plunder of his body and sex that Sanji remembered and took with him into the depths of heat. Heat as eternal and as cataclysmic as that of the desert. 

~0~

The imperial palace was not in an uproar the next morning when Sanji made his daily rounds, as he had expected it would be. He would have thought that the disappearance of the royal Princess would have caused an excitement impossible to hide and a hullabaloo which reached all four corners of the desert kingdom. But perhaps the most telling sign was the deep, deep current of unease which rippled through the palace. It seemed as if colors had been subdued, talk had been hushed, and even the very heat seemed dilapidated.

If he had not been there to see what had happened last night then he might have not seen that subtle unease as strongly as he saw it. But now that he knew, everything even a little off or strange stood out strongly. The way the little groups of royal soldiers hurried to and fro, trying to disguise their anxiety; the way the Captains of the Guard, Pell and Chaka, shut themselves in the royal chamber and emerged every now and then to murmur orders to silent groups of soldiers.

Sanji watched it all from the corners of the palace. He had woken early that day, earlier than he usually did and probably because of the unfamiliar feeling of the couch he had fallen asleep on. The bright rays of sunshine illuminated the small library completely, the bright glare of the sun was inescapable, humbled only slightly by the beige wisps of gossamer curtains. He straightened up slowly, looking confusedly at the small blanket thrown on his form. He lifted it up and recoiled at the nudity underneath.

In the bright, reassuring light of the morning, the black-and-white sensuality of the night was unreal. It felt more like a detailed nightmare than reality. The sweat between their bodies, the grinding of hips and groins, the terror of one-way kisses and the shame.

He put his hands in his head and closed his eyes and let a small groan escape his used lips. Sanji allowed himself just one. Anymore would have led to two, and then three, and on and on until he was breaking down on the mausoleum floor. He close his eyes so tightly that the darkness inside exploded in kaleidoscope neon patterns floating in the deepness. But he couldn't shut his eyes to the memories, the scenes which played relentlessly like the flashes of cards in a shuffling deck.

There was so much writhing in his soul at the moment, so much energy churning in his pit that his outer demeanor was subdued to the point of sorrow. Sanji was struggling to connect the obscure dots and form a complete picture of what had happened in the early hours of dawn. He had an apt mind and a sharp intellect, but he struggled nonetheless because he was still raw from the forced loving. How the intimacy undid him in ways he never thought possible!

But through it all, the strange look in Zoro's eyes, that foreign soft glint that he had never seen before, the alien note of crooning and self-deprivation in Zoro's husky voice-Sanji had never seen nor heard before that strange night. The night Vivi had slipped through a palace window and fled at dawn.

Equally mysterious had been that scene last night. Why had Vivi escaped like a thief in the night? Why had she slipped into the darkness of inevitable danger, with what seemed like the intention to march into the rebel camp-a camp in which the Royals were not fondly thought of in these times? He worried, he worried for that sweet little face and dimpled, soft, round cheeks, he worried for those pale, white, delicate hands. If he had been a free man then he would have been after her in a heartbeat, at her side protecting.

Sanji just wished he knew what the _hell_ was happening. But information was not forthcoming, especially not from Zoro. He would have to accept that he would not solve this mystery soon. But the worry and fear burrowed deep within his heart. The Princess Vivi has disappeared, the county was on the brink of civil war, the rain had not fallen in years, the people were angry and thirsty, the crops were dying, and he was shackled to a man that confused, angered, and who made his nights hot as the inferno this country was in.

~0~


End file.
